Things We Lost In The Fire
by outlook96
Summary: Florence has spent most of her time at WICKED veiled behind the eyes of a beetle blade. Her job is to observe the glade and everyone in it. That includes the British boy with the limp that she has been keeping a keen eye on lately. What happens when Florence is unexpectedly forced into the maze, acting as a variable for the subjects, and has to pretend like she has no memory?
1. Beetle Blades

**Hello fellow gladers! I have decided to start a new maze runner fan fiction, I hope you enjoy. First off, I'd just like to say that I do not own The Maze Runner, that belongs to the amazing James Dashner. Just a heads up, I may change some things and i might fuse the book and the movie together. If you have any questions, feel free to drop a review :)**

* * *

I sat at my respective cubicle, typing away like I usually did, searching for any signs of life in the glade. Once I tapped into one of the beetle blades, I relaxed in my seat, only touching the key circle on my desk to move my new being around. This was my job, day in, day out. This was what WICKED assigned me to do, watch them. Watch them and report what they were doing.

They told me I was important, which was hard to believe considering this was what I did all day. They told me I would be needed one day. Ava, the chancellor, told me I was smart, which I couldn't help but deny since I designed the beetle blades.

"Florence?"

"Hm?" I perked up, turning to my name being hollered, my brown hair falling across my chest as I swiveled in my chair.

The assistant director, Mr. Janson, strutted towards me, papers in hand. "Are they awake yet?"

I shook my head, turning to the screen that was implanted on my desk. Dawn had just made an appearance in the glade, and only the sound of the farm animals and the snores of the gladers could be heard. "Not yet."

"Let me know when they're awake." He dictated as he walked away from me, towards Thomas.

"Will do," I smiled, although he couldn't see me. I used my key circle to roam the glade through the eyes of my beetle blade, searching for any signs of liveliness.

I scaled across the wall of the homestead, making my way to the second floor and crawling through one of the open windows to Alby's room, the leader. He was just waking up, preparing to exit his room and wake up the runners. I followed closely behind, going unnoticed as he made his way through homestead.

"Alby's awake," I called to Janson.

I glanced up briefly, making sure Janson caught what I was said. He was in the middle of the room, what we called The Brain. The Brain was the life of WICKED. It was the control center, working on the most important aspects of WICKED. There were at least twenty people working on the Brain, including Thomas and Teresa, my roommates. Chuck was also a roommate of ours, but today was the day he was sent into the glade. They had been preparing him for the last few weeks, sending him through various tests. He was scheduled for the insertion of the swipe in an hour, erasing all his memories. He was probably still asleep in his room, getting his last peaceful sleep.

I wondered if Chuck would change. They always did after entering the glade and having their memories wiped. Ben, Adam, Nick, Bill. Those were the only gladers I knew from group A. I was assigned to group A, not even knowing anyone group B aside from Sonya and Aris, who were entering soon. As far as I knew group A and B were tied in their escape efforts.

"Group B's awake," I heard Aris yell from the cubicle next to mine, closer to The Brain. He was watching Group B, not that he would remember any of it. In the next month, he was being sent up to Group B, forgetting anything and everything that was WICKED.

It was tragic, really. Aris, one of my closest friends, would forget me in time.

I sat up in my chair, hoping to catch site of Aris. Our eyes met briefly, and he grinned. I grinned back before turning back to my work pad.

I continued to stalk Alby, who was always the first one awake in the glade, until he arrived in Minho's room. He shook the runner off of his hammock. "The doors open in ten minutes, shank, wake the shuck up."

Minho groaned, but flopped out of his hammock to get ready for the day.

I scurried past Minho, and headed out the window and scaled down the wall. Most of the runners were awake now, getting their gear ready for the long day ahead of them.

I ran a hand through my long hair, blowing a raspberry out of my mouth as I let my fingers do the work. The pads of my fingers grazed across the spherical key circle that was half-fused into my glass desk.

Ten minutes later, the science-defying doors opened, allowing the runners to start their day jobs. "The doors are open people, get going." Janson announced, ordering myself and the other employees to start our day jobs.

I debated on whether to follow the runner, or to remain in the glade today. Usually me and a few other employees traded off, 2 staying in the glade, 2 following the runners.

"Hannah," I yelled to the women a few cubicles over. She stood up from her seat, tossing her red hair over her shoulder and cupping a hand around her ear, as if that would help her hear better. "I'll stay in the glade today." I finished.

"Alright." She hollered back, sitting back in her chair.

Hannah was in charge of Group A's beetle blades, whenever something happened or whenever we initiated something, we told her.

I turned me key circle around, turning away from Minho and heading back into the glade. Since most of the gladers still remained asleep, I wavered in taking small water break. I walked past the Chancellor, giving her a small smile as I passed her office, although I wasn't sure if she could see me considering she was tapping the glass, making swiping motions with her lean fingers. The annoying thing about WICKED's offices is that almost everything is made of glass, which is transparent, but you can't tell if the workers behind the glass can see you, because the glass was just a giant work pad, which you could only see from the inside. So it was clear she was working on something that only she could see.

I grazed past the automatic sliding door and entered the hallway. There was a drink machine in The Hive (What we called the busy work room) but I wanted to check on Chuck in my room anyways.

I walked to the end of the long, brightly lit hallway, entering another. My fingers lightly railed along side the wall as I followed the hallway's slight curve until my room came into view. I stepped in front of it, placing my hand on the identity scanner beside it. Only Janson, the chancellor, Teresa, Thomas, Chuck and I were identified to enter our room. Once the identity scanner flashed green, our room door slid open.

The room was small, but not claustrophobic. It reminded me somewhat of a prison, but more high maintenance. There was a built in television facing across from me, which only played the news our announcements from WICKED, as well as a PSA speaker which was used to announce information to us via the chancellor.

On either side of the dimly lit room were two bunk beds. One for Teresa and I, and one for Thomas and Chuck, who was still in bed. Chuck was awake. He sat on his bed, already in glader gear, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"You nervous?" I asked, walking towards him. I sat closely beside him.

"Kinda..." he laughed half heartedly.

"Don't fret, Chucky." That was a nickname I frequently called him, it tends to calm him down. "Just think, this time tomorrow you'll be living a whole new life."

His head turned to gaze up at me, his dark curls mopping his forehead. "But I won't remember you."

I gave him a small, closed lipped smile, filled with dimples. "But I will remember you," I lightly poked his nose.

"Hmph," he smirked.

I glanced down at the boy who reminded me much of my non-immune brother, who fell into the terrible fate of transforming into a Crank. My brother had caught the flare, and that's why I was here. My parents died during the first scorch wave, but my brother and I survived. I remember the day so vividly. My brother and I, as well as hundreds of others, attended school that day. The school started to get warm, like a giant oven filled with students. I had heard about the recent theories of the sun flares on the news. And me, being the melodramatic, vigilant, sister I am, I snatched him from his class and took him to the subway station. My brother was one of the first to catch the flare, and at first, I thought he was turning cannibalistic, but after seeing that some of the others we were travelling with acted the same way, I knew it was something worse.

I was the only survivor of our large group. WICKED found me a few months later, living by myself in the deserted scorched world, living off of abandoned grocery store food and expired convenient store milk. I guess that's what triggered my working with WICKED. I had nothing else to live for, so what the hell. Why not let them test on my brain and force me to work in their headquarters?

I glanced back down at Chuck. My heart ached for both my deceased brothr and Chuck. I hated the fact that Chuck wouldn't remember me. I hated the fact that the next time I saw him (if I ever did), it would be our first meeting again. I had grown so close to the people I shared this room with, and one by one they were being picked off, and I would just remain here, working for WICKED, for the rest of my life.

"Don't be nervous, Chuck," I reassured him, pulling him into a close hug. I could practically hear his rapid heart thumping against his chest, as well as his panting breath. "In a month, you'll see Thomas. Even though he won't remember you, he'll take good care of you."

"You think so?" He tried to lift his head from my tight hug.

"I know so. It's roommate instinct, Chuck. Even the swipe can't remove that."

He let out a nervous giggle.

I released him, finally, my heart hurting slightly as I did so.

A crackling noise emitted from the PA speaker. It buzzed for a few seconds, before the head surgeon spoke. "Chuck, you are scheduled for The Swipe in five minutes. We expect to see you in room 1100 by then."

"Alright," He yelled back, a little too loud causing me to wince.

The speaker crackled once more, and then shut off.

I slapped my hands on my thighs, and stood up from the bed. "Alright Chucky," I smiled. "It's time," I announced, opening my arms for one last embrace. He gladly returned my embrace, pulling me in tightly. I felt his warmth radiate onto my skin, and I smirked to myself, kissing the mop of curls on his head. "Did you have a chance to say bye to Thomas and Teresa?"

"Yeah," He mumbled back. "They came by just before you did."

I leaned back, my hands still on his shoulders. "Good. Want me to walk you down?" I arched a brow.

He nodded, blowing out a long breath through his nostrils

"Good that," I grinned, finding myself repeating glader slang. I patted a hand on his back and headed out the room.

We started down the extensive hallway, turning once until we entered The Hive once again. The door slid open, after responding to my touch via identification scanner.

WICKED's headquarters was situated like a giant wheel, the whole building circular with floors stacked upon each other. The other buildings surrounded the headquarters, like a small city. The two mazes were set up on either side of WICKED's buildings.

We quickly strode through The Hive, and made it to the door across the room, exiting it. Some of WICKED's employees gave a few 'Goodbye's' or 'See ya's' to Chuck as we passed.

We approached the elevator, and I slid a key card that hung from the lanyard on my neck.

The elevator dinged as it arrived, and Chuck and I stepped in. I pressed floor two, and the elevator zoomed down, making a loud whirring noise as it did so.

"Well," I smiled to Chuck as the doors opened, "This is where I leave you."

He gave me a smile and a small nod as he bordered in front of me. I was taken aback when he gave me one preceding, giant, bear hug. "Goodbye, Florence."

"Bye, Chucky," I breathed into his hair.

He gave me one last toothy grin, prior to stepping out of the elevator.

I held my hand up, waving to him until I saw the surgeon's take him and the elevator door's secure.

I let out a sad sigh as the elevator chugged back to floor 4. It made me nervous that Chuck was down there. That's where they kept some of the cranks that they tested on. I know he was in the best possible hands, but it still made me anxious.

After making it back to The Hive and sitting back in my seat, I continued my job of being a beetle blade. I put in my earpiece, allowing myself to hear so I could eavesdrop on the gladers.

The whole glade was filled with life now, everyone buzzing with existence. My fingers pressed against my key circle, maneuvering my beetle blade around the glade.

It was the same as every day, everyone continued their jobs, Frypan made his food, Gally was starting a new building project, Bill took his place as bagger beside the maze walls, and the rest were doing their own individual jobs.

"Hullo there little beetle blade."

I turned my key circle so my beetle would face the familiar accented voice.

It was Newt.

He was gazing straight down at me, a bundle of wood in hands and a curious look on his flawless face. I scampered through his feet and up a tree, wanting to go unseen by any gladers. His head darted around, trying to figure out where I went, but then he shrugged, walking off again.

This boy always had a special place in my heart, and not just because he was ridiculously good looking. I mean, his chocolate brown eyes, perfectly squared jaw line, lean figure, and messily tousled blonde hair were an asset, but that wasn't why I cared for the boy I didn't even know.

I never knew Newt; I became a WICKED employee after they started the maze trials, so I was never acquainted with him. I read through his file briefly before though. The Glue, they called him, was an important asset to the maze trials.

I watched him the day he leapt from the maze walls. I tracked him until the end of sector 7, proceeded to watch as he climbed up the ivy that scaled the walls, and couldn't do anything as I saw him jump from the top of the maze walls.

I didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't die, or the fact that he was still alive. I saw his body twitch repulsively as he made a horrible moaning sound. A single tear escaped his left eye as he let out a shaky breath. The adrenaline overpowered him, blocking out any pain, but it was only a matter of time until he felt the sickly twist of his mangled leg, which was angled a merciless way.

I controlled my beetle blade to crawl upon his body. At the time, I internally cursed myself for not designing them so they could talk or move beings. At first, I wasn't sure if he felt the metallic claws that crept over his numb body.

But then, I saw a glint of hope in his eyes. He lifted his head to look at me, but once again, I couldn't do anything. I just watched and stared.

Seconds later, a loud, painful, moan escaped as the effects of the adrenaline wore off. Luckily, by that time, Minho and another boy, Leo, came to the rescue. He swatted me off of his body, which I didn't particularly admire, but they managed to save Newt.

Ever since then, he's had that limp, and ever since then, I've always felt the need to keep an eye on him, not that I could do anything. I also suggested reprogramming the beetle blades in case something like that ever happened again, but Janson refused, saying it was unneeded. He said events like that were meant to occur and it would help the brain patterns of the subjects in finding a cure for the flare. He didn't want us tampering with anything.

Realistically, I was smart enough to reprogram them so we could help, or talk, or do something if anything like that ever occurred again, but I obeyed my assistant director.

"Florence."

Once again, I swiveled in my chair to the direction of my name being called. The chancellor was making her round, greeting her employees after finally exiting her office. I gave her a small, greeting, smile.

"WICKED is good," She told me.

"WICKED is good," I repeated back to her as she passed me, letting her hand rest upon my shoulder momentarily.

It was something she informed everyone, every minute, of everyday. It was like she was brainwashing us into believing that WICKED was good, but we didn't need to be brainwashed. We all already worked here. It was just something she said to everyone.

I couldn't help but divulge back into my own little distorted world that was the glade. I continued to watch Newt, crawling from tree to tree. He was headed towards the gardens, probably preparing to start some work before the new 'greenie' arrived.

I never understood their glader slang, but it was comical. Sometimes I found myself using it, or I caught Aris repeating Group B's slang.

I turned the volume of my earpiece up, eavesdropping on Newt who was headed to converse with Zart, the main gardener, or 'Keeper of the Track-hoes'.

"What's up, Newt?" Zart asked, standing from his previous kneeling position.

"Just thought I could give a helping hand, is all." He responded, moving beside the rows of seeds Zart had planted.

"Well," Zart started, hoisting a shovel over his brawn shoulders, "Tim and I can use all the help we can get. We're a little behind on tomato picking, and Fry wants them in his kitchen before breakfast. Think he's making omlette's again?"

Newt smiled, dropping the pile of wood that was in his arms near a log, and moving towards Zart as he pushed up his dirty sleeves to his elbow. "I bloody hope so."

Jesus, that accent was to die for.

Sometimes I felt like I had known Newt for a lifetime.

But then reality sets in, and I grasp that I don't actually know Newt at all. I only know him through a file, where he is referred to as a sticky substance often used to paste things together. The Glue.

I only know Newt through the eyes of my own metallic, bug-like creation, and that depressed me.


	2. Into the Maze

I sat like I usually did at my desk, awaiting to be rescued from my shift. There was hardly anyone left in The Hive, everyone was either eating dinner or getting ready for bed. Only Aris, Hannah, and another girl I didn't recognize were accompanying me in my torturous night shift. Most of the gladers were asleep by now, the maze doors had long been closed. I heard Newt and Alby conversing quietly over Chuck. 

"What do we do with the greenbean?" Newt asked his superior.

Alby just shrugged nonchalantly. "There's nothing we can do. He's going to have to stick it out like the rest of us. Just because he's 13-"

12,actually.

"— doesn't mean he gets special treatment. We all went through the same thing he did."

"Yeah," Newt agreed, "But I literally saw the greenbean have a bloody breakdown in the bathrooms."

Alby placed his muscley hands on his wide hips. "He'll find his niche. In the meantime I want you to stop worrying about greenies and start worrying about how the shuck we're going to fix that hole in the side of the homestead."

Newt let out an almost inaudible sigh. "I told you Gally," one of the builders, "was going to take care of it."

Alby frowned, pivoting on his heel to exit Newt's room.

"Well hurry," he called out, "don't want the shucking grievers crawling in."

I shivered at the name. Here at WICKED we had no names for them. They were just referred to as creature A1 or creature A5.

My mind started to wander back to Chuck.

I felt bad for the poor boy. He had been there for almost a week now. When he first arrived, I felt like crying. He was so scared, so frightened of the unknown. He called out for his mom, who had long been gone by now. He wanted comfort, and the other gladers just laughed in his chubby face. The only one who seemed to give a crap was Newt and another boy, Sigmund, who was close to his age. Being the youngest boy in the glade, he hadn't made many friends. I almost wanted to launch Thomas up that elevator right now, just to comfort our previous roomie, even if they didn't remember each other.

"You're free to go;" a voice interrupted my train of thought.

I flinched in my chair, sitting up to see Hannah. She gave me a small nod, and I politely returned it, shutting off my work pad desk. The room went dim as Hannah switched off a light, the only light emitting from The Brain now where a few workers were starting their graveyard shift.

"Goodnight Aris." I dismissed, momentarily locking my brown eyes with his blue ones. He shrugged off his headpiece, placing it on his glass desk which caused it to make a 'ting' noise.

"Goodnight Florence," he retorted with a small, close lipped smile.

I patted the older boy's back, passing him as I headed to the opposite door.

I yawned; sending cold shivers through my body as I tiredly trudged towards my bedroom.  
I unlocked the door, via hand scanner, and sauntered toward the small, sliding closet that the three of us shared. We all wore the same uniform, day in, day out, which consisted of white scrubs and WICKED's logo. So to sum up, there was no use for a big closet considering our wardrobe was the same, the only difference being Thomas`s medium size, and Teresa and I's small.

Speaking of Tom, I could hear his light snore as I changed into my pajamas behind the pull out curtain. I climbed up to the top bunk, trying not to disturb Teresa as I crawled into my sleeping bag, and faced opposite of the wall, towards Thomas. I found it somewhat soothing that he slept on the top bunk since Chuck's departure. I let out a shaky laugh as my eyes adjusted to the light and I saw Thomas, half slung over the side of the wooden bed. His arm lopped over the edge, as well as his leg, and his mouth hung open while his face squished comfortably alongside his pillow.

"Florence?"

At first, I thought that the voice emitted from Thomas' mouth, but when I saw his eyes still shut securely, I assumed it was Teresa.

"Sorry Teresa," I apologized, "Did I wake you?"

"No," she garbled so quietly that I almost didn't catch her words. There was a shuffling noise as she rotated in her blankets. I felt the bunk bed shift.

"What's up then?" I questioned in a curious tone.

She was silent for a moment. I almost thought she fell back asleep until I heard her clear her throat. "D-Do you think what we're doing is right?"

I bit my lip. I had no true response to that. Truthfully, if it were any other circumstance I would say no.

But this was for the sake of human kind, to figure out a cure, to save earth. Instead of saying yes or no, I responded with what I was trained to. "WICKED is good."

She never responded, whether that was because she was asleep or because she disagreed with my statement, I didn't know.

I rolled, readjusting my position, now facing the wall. My hands grazed the side of my pant leg, and I felt a bumpy sensation manifest itself. I dug into my white pajama pants, sifting my hand into my pocket, and pulled out a photo.

My eyes had a hard time adjusting to the dark, but when they did, I beamed to myself. It was a photo of Thomas, Teresa and I a few days after I arrived. I was in the middle, Thomas was on my left, using my long hair as a moustache, and Teresa on my right, sticking out her tongue as I shot a toothy grin at the camera. It was in our room.

I slid the photo back into my pocket and curled into a fetal position.

It took me only a few seconds until I slipped into oblivion.

* * *

The following day was the same.

Something didn't feel right in the pit of my stomach, though.

You know when you can just feel like something bad is going to happen? That's how I felt. I don't know if it was just Teresa asking me that question last night, but something told me to be wary of who I trusted.

Something just didn't feel right.

The sensation hung with me all day. Even when I hung out with Thomas in the morning. We spent our morning pranking Teresa on her day off.

It was hilarious.

As soon as she entered the shower, we took her clothes.

We burst into a chortled fit of laughter when we heard her scream our names.

Janson wasn't too pleased with us, so he cut our breaks.

So now, just like every other boring day I spent here, I sat at my desk, using my work pad and my key circle to monitor the graders.

There was a grey aura floating over the gladers, a sadness that never seemed to lift, like fog. Their faces were filled with locks of sorrow and grief. One of the boys, Kol, got stung a few days ago. They hadn't injected the antidote in time and he just passed away. He was only there for 3 months, but it was still unfortunate.

It was beautiful the small funeral they gave for him. They all shared memories, even Chuck who wasn't that close with him. His death seemed to affect Minho mostly, considering he was a runner.

When my shift ended that day around 11:00pm, I headed to the small dining hall. There was a wired hunger in my stomach that never seemed to go away.

"Hey there, stranger."

I whipped around, facing the tables.

"Aris," I retorted with a smile.

"Haven't seen you all day." he stated, sauntering towards me.

I shrugged, "Been kind of busy."

"Oh yeah?" He scoffed, "pranking Teresa?"

I pretended to wipe beads of sweat off my forehead with my sleeve. "Pranking is hard work..." I sighed.

"Sure it is." his laugh faded. "Janson wanted me to run something by you."

I arched a brow, "Oh really?"

"Yeah," his eyes averted from mine, and I could already tell I wouldn't like it. "How would you feel about going into the maze?"

I choked. " Uh-w hat?"

I heard what he said, I was just boggling in disbelief.

"Things have been kind of slow lately-"

"With group A or group B?" I interrupted him.

"A." he replied, finally raising his eyes to me. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Well why didn't Janson talk to me himself about this?"

Aris shrugged, rubbing his cuff with his left hand. "I'm not sure."  
I scratched my head in annoyance. It was because he wanted me to say yes. He knew Aris and I were close so he used him to get to me. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Nope," He replied, popping the 'p'.

I shook my head and sighed in frustration. " I... Uh.. No, Aris, I don't think I'm ready to. I can't. "

My heart started to pound in my chest just thinking about it. I bit my lip, a nervous habit of mine. The same feeling I had this morning made reappearance. My stomach growled in hunger and I held it in response. Truth was, I was too fearful of the maze. I was a coward.

"Are you alright?" I barely heard Aris' husky voice enunciate itself.

My breathing got shallow and I shook my head."I uh..Yeah.." I started to feel dizzy.

"Hey, woah woah woah." I felt Aris' hands on my biceps, but felt too weak to raise my eyes to meet his. "You're alright."

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me into a tight embrace. "You're fine, don't worry. "

"Why would he want me in the maze?" I gasped, "I-I-don't understand."

"He wants to stir things up. Nothing has changed their brain patterns aren't changing significantly. But you're fine. You're not in the maze. Don't worry. "

I took a deep breath in and exhaled through my nostrils.

"Calm down," he reassured. "You're fine."

I didn't know if I believed his words. I still felt that uneasiness in the pit of stomach, the one that told me something terrible was going to occur.

I wrapped my shaky arms around his body and returned the embrace.

When I had finally calmed myself down, he released me with fragility, a toothy grin on his face.

"Are you alright?" he arched a thick brow, "Do you want me to walk to your room?"

I shook my head giving him a small smile, flashing my deep dimples. "I'm just gonna-" I looked to the food table, "grab an apple," I said picking it up.

I rubbed it on my shirt.

Aris patter my shoulder. "Don't worry, it was just a suggestion. Have a good sleep Florence," he muttered, moving past me, "I'll see you in the morning."

I gave him a smile as I watched him dawdle away from me.

That night, after saying goodnight to Thomas and Teresa, I found myself momentarily becoming an insomniac. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to find a comfortable position. I still had that thought in the back of my brain that told me that something wasn't right.

Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right.

I kept telling myself that until the moment my consciousness ebbed away.

* * *

I was woken moments later by 2 pairs of strong arms.

"Wha...?" my voice cracked as I felt one of the arms hoist me over the shoulder of a tall body. My mind was too groggy to comprehend the situation. I looked to Thomas, whose eyes flashed open. Panic filled his face.

I blinked, trying to remove the sleep in my eyes.

I watched Thomas' eyes widen alarmingly. He sat up in the bunk bed. His mop of brown hair fell in his eyes.

I blinked, trying to dilate my pupils enough to focus into Thomas' beautiful chocolate brown irises.

He gasped. "Where are you taking her?"

My captor didn't respond, just rotated my body towards the door.

"Where are you taking her?!" Thomas demanded louder.

"Thomas..." I croaked, reaching an arm out to him.

His arm reached back, "No!" he yelled as our fingers met briefly. "NO!"

My brain started to de-fog, and my mind quickly awakened just as the door was about to shut in my face. "THOMAS!" I screamed, seeing him hop off the top bunk, land with a thud, and attempt to follow me. The door slid shut behind him, and I heard his fists loudly pound against it.

"FLORENCE!" I heard one last time.

I looked over my shoulder, trying to see my captor. There was two men, one tall man, bald, who was walking ahead of us. The other had dark hair and a long neck. Janson.

"Janson, where are you taking me? "

He clutched my legs tighter as I remained over his shoulder. We turned down another hallway and I repeated my question in a furious tone. When he didn't reply again, I punched him in the back of the leg.

His knee gave out and he almost dropped us both.

He groaned, readjusting me on him.

"Arrgh!"I groaned back in irritation. I always hated Janson.

The walk was long. We even took a short elevator ride. I don't know where we were heading but eventually we even had to leave the building. I shivered as I felt the cold night air hit my exposed skin.  
I tried fight Janson's cobra-like grip, but it was no use, "Let me go!" I yelled in vexation. He catapulted me farther over his shoulder, causing my head to swing back and forth. I hissed, feeling the effects of mild whiplash.

When we arrived to the next building; I relaxed. But when we entered a brightly lit room, and he liberated me, I tensed up again. He set me on my feet and I observed the room. The smell of disinfectant and cleaner burned my inner nostrils, causing me to flare them. The bald man moved two surgical steel operating tables out of the way and walked forward to another door, a smaller one.

It appeared menacing in its true form. I knew what it was now.

The bald man placed his hand on an identification scanner. When the door opened, he didn't walk through. Instead, he typed something in on the scanner, pressing buttons and making swiping motions.

"No. You can't do this." I turned to Janson.

He had a smirk on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. "It's for the best, I promise you."  
Panic mode set in.

"NO... No Janson... "He took a step towards me, "No please Janson, no. I can't. I'm not ready."

He took another step towards me, I retreated in response, my behind hitting a steel table.

I heard the alarm blaring through the open door, and that's when the reality of it all set in.

My eyes watered in fear, and I tried to maneuver myself around them

"Please Janson, no. I'll do whatever you want. Don't do this please..."

He took another, final, step towards me and I now had nowhere to retreat. I glanced at him, and then back at the steel table.

Moving as swiftly as possible, I hopped onto the table, swinging my legs over it.

The bald guy caught both my legs and yanked me back. I let out a small scream. My heart was racing now, I was almost sure that they could hear it pounding away, like a runaway train.

"Please!" I pleaded one last time.

Janson and the bald man gripped my body tight, and hauled me towards the door.

I kicked and screamed and attempted to scratch their faces.

They were so much stronger than I was.

I kept trying, but the more I tried to fight it, the weaker I got. I felt fatigued. I had to save my strength I had to accept my face; I was entering the maze now.

I let out a small whimper as they gave me one big shove, and my body stumbled into the noisy elevator.

"Tell them anything and you die," Janson sternly threatened. The bald man stepped into view as the assistant director walked off. His eyes connected with mine. It was the first time I had gotten a good look at this man. One of his eyes was clouded; he was blind in the left one.

"WICKED is good." He avowed before slamming the door shut. Its loud noise echoed even over the earsplitting alarm sounding above me.

I fell against the metal grates of the elevator and didn't bother to get back up. My head hit a wooden crate, and I could feel the warmth of a wound start to form. Blood trickled down the side of my forehead, and I let out a diminutive, horrified sob. I shivered, it was freezing in here

I was the first person to go up and actually remember my life, and I wasn't allowed to speak a weird of it. I didn't doubt Janson's word. He would kill me the second he had a chance to. I wasn't important.

Or maybe I was, maybe they planned this all along. Either way, I had to live with the fact that I remembered my life.

Or was that even my life!? Had I been brainwashed by WICKED? My trust for them quickly faded after the events that just occurred.

All I could comprehend was one thing.

I hated WICKED.

After several daunting minutes, the elevator made a loud squealing nose and leisurely chugged upward.

I sat up in response. It jolted upwards in a jarring motion, sending a shock through my already trembling body. I gasped.

The loud metal scraping against metal noise resonated from the walls as it rose in the air, gaining speed with each passing second.

"Help.." I moaned. "Someone please help me" My raspy voice scarcely audible over the screeching and blaring alarm.

It continued to elevate without seizing and I started to hyperventilate when it got faster and faster.

"Please someone help!" I slammed my palms against the steel cage, shaking it with all the force I had.

When the Elevator started to slow as it got close to its destination, I collapsed on the floor, letting out a shaky sob.

I wrapped my arms around my body, hugging myself tightly.

When the elevator finally halted I closed my eyes, nervously gulping a mouthful of saliva. I was on the verge of a panic attack.

I didn't expect to see light; it was the middle of the night when they kidnapped me. I also didn't expect to see a community of boys staring down at me in bewilderment when I opened my eyes.

"It's a... Girl…" the builder, Gally I think his name was, hopped into the elevator with me. It was weird seeing him infront of me and not analyzing him on a screen. He was a lot taller and husky in person. He arched an angular brow, making a confused face.

"A girl?" the leader asked, "in the middle of the night?"

"That's never happened before... " A boy announced.

"Yeah no shuck." Someone else added.

My eyes shot back to Gally, who looked abnormally tall gazing down at me."Hey," he cautiously held out a hand, "you're alright."

I scooted back until my butt hit the steel wall. I shivered, my teeth chattering in response. "N-N-No..."

"Hey, you're fine, I'm not going to hurt you." his arm touched my shoulder, and I twitched in response, startling him. He snatched his hand back.

"Don't touch me... I'm sorry- please don't..." I shut my eyes. I was overwhelmed with feelings. I felt like a dam had just broken, and a wave of emotions had just swept through me. I let out a small sob, causing me to hiccup from lack of breath.

An errruption of whispers swept over the boys, but I ignored it.

"I can't believe they did that..." I whispered to myself. I couldn't help but let the pool of tears in my eye overflow.

"What did you say?" Gally asked, touching my shoulder again.

"NO!" I trembled, trying to move even farther back into the steel elevator 's walls. "NO no no..."

"What the shuck did you do now Gally?"

I knew that voice. I knew that familiar accent. It was the only thing that was familiar to me right now.

My eyes flashed back up, and I saw a lean posture making its way through the crowd, pushing between Alby and Minho, one of the runners.

"Newt" My teeth chattered as I murmured his name.

The mass of teenage boys all turned to whose name I had accidently just spoken aloud.

At first, he looks petrified. His eyes widened in fear and he took a few steps back.

"You know this greenie?" Alby pointed to me.

I blinked profusely, trying to rid the tears that blurred my vision.

"I... Uh..." he licked his petite lips.

"Do ya shank?"

"No," he spat. Our eyes momentarily locked, and for the first time that night I felt calm. That feeling quickly faded as soon as he turned to view Alby once again. "No, I don't."

"Come on greenie," Gally, clearly not grasping the concept of a personal bubble, attempted to hook an arm underneath me.

"NO! Please no no no. Leave me here." i shut my eyes tightly.

"Don't touch the girl, Gally. " Newt ordered sternly.

"Slim it, Newt, I know what I'm doing." He hissed back.

This had to be a dream. This couldn't be real. They would never send me into the maze would they? Of course they wouldn't!

This was just a terrible dream!

My head dropped morosely into my sweaty palms, and I exhaled. When I felt a warm liquid touch my fingertips, I raised my head again.

"She's hurt, " a darker boy, whose name I didn't know, voiced.

I rubbed the red liquid between the pads of my fingers, and then moved to touch my forehead. There was a cut above my left brow, where my head hit the crate when Janson pushed me in. But it didn't hurt, that's because it wasn't real.

"This is just a dream… " I whispered to myself. "just a dream."

"This isn't a dream, sweetheart. Welcome to hell." Gally uttered a smirk on his face.

I felt the tears collect in my eyes again, and I couldn't help but just stare up at him.

I heard someone shuffle beside me, and then I felt the elevator shake and create a loud thud. Newt had hopped down into the box. He smacked Gally on the back of the head. "Ow."

"Hullo there," Newt confronted me calmly, taking cautious steps.

"This has to be a dream," I ignored him, lowering my head.

Newt took another step towards me. The toe of his boots tapped my sneakers, I jumped.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "I'm sorry, uh... What's your name?"

I blinked, unable to form words.

"Alright," his eyes hastily darted from Alby then back to me."Can you tell us anything? Do you remember anything? Your name maybe?"

"I can't. They'll kill me. They'll kill me." Those were Janson's words. As much as I now despised WICKED, I had to obey them, because I knew what they could do. "They'll hurt me..."

"No one's going to hurt you, alright Greenie?" he promised.

I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall down the side of my face. Maybe I would wake up in a few minutes. Or maybe this was just some sick joke Teresa was playing on me to get back at me.  
I ran my hands through my hair a few times, pulling at my scalp. "Just a dream.. Just a dream..."

"Sorry to burst your bubble greenie, but uh-"

"It has to be a dream. "i interrupted him.

My breathing quickened. I pulled at my scalp again, letting the anxiety take over like a possessive demon. "I cant.." i croaked in a low voice, panting now.

"Sorry...? " he asked, kneeling down to my height.

The tears kept coming, the panicked frenzy never seized, and the oxygen in the air seemed to dissipate. I was having a panic attack.

"Jeff," he addressed someone, "What's wrong with Her?" he pulled on his pant leg, shuffling closer to me on his knees.

"I c-c-can't breath... " I wheezed. "I can't.."

"Woah woah, it's alright, just talk to me. Breathe. Jeff? Clint?" His face alarmingly lit up in panic.

"She's having a panic attack!"

I shut my eyes, trying to focus on the voice, but everything sounded off key now. It was like I was underwater. Everyone's shouts seemed to drown out and I could only hear my own, unsteady breathing. A pang of pain targeted itself in the centre of my chest and I clutched myself for support.

"Take her to the Med-hut!" were the only other words I heard before I felt two strong arms wrap themselves underneath me. My body trembled in the arms of my savior.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was met with the face of a near angel. Newt yelled something at me, which I didn't hear. I fisted the middle of his shirt, pulling myself closer to him, making sure that this really wasn't a dream. He felt real, it seemed real. But I didn't know what to believe.

I puffed heavily, trying to catch my breath, but it was no use.

I was cold. I felt so cold.

I shivered, and I kept shivering. Chills ran through my body and my teeth chattered, I let out a small moaning sob.

Newt said something to me again, but I couldn't look at him. I only looked past him, at the night sky.

The stars dusted the sky beautifully. Like freckles on a pale girl.

I shivered one last time, letting the petrified tears fall, and closed my eyes, hearing the British accent one last time. "Don't worry, you're alright. You're safe now."

* * *

**A/N: So originally I planned to elongate Florence working at WICKED, but I decided most of my ideas were boring. Sorry if she was rushed into he maze too quickly for you, she will have flashbacks to her times at WICKED watching Newt or the other gladers, or interacting with WICKED's employees. Sorry for any gramatical errors, I wrote most of this on my phone. Feel free to drop a review :) Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites already! It makes me smile :)**


	3. The Boy With The Limp

**If anyone wants to make a cover photo for this story, please PM me! I would love you forever :)**

* * *

I had a hard time opening my eyes the next day. Eventually, they managed to flutter open. A stream of light expanded across my vision, and I cringed, blinded by its brilliance. I moaned for more sleep, covering the stream of light pouring through the window with the palms of my hands.

As if answering my prayers, someone pinned a blanket over the small window, ridding the light.

"Morning greenie,"

I blinked a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the sudden darkness, and then focused in on Newt, and another boy. He was darker, I had seen him before, I just couldn't recall his name.

"Hi…" I croaked, attempting to sit up. I was lying in a hammock, uncomfortably might I add. It was gauche to try to face them aptly.

The darker boy moved towards me. He grabbed my wrist, wrapping three fingers around it. His pointer and his middle were on my forearm, while his thumb rested on the back. After he checked my pulse, he placed a hand on my head. I jumped at his warmth. His warm skin felt like a burning sensation on mine.

"Sorry…" his modulated voice apologized.

I bit my lip, looking from the boy, to Newt.

Newt crossed his arms over his chest, watching us intently.

When the boy looked at Newt, giving him a nod of conformation, Newt nodded back, only he nodded to the door, as if he was excused to leave.

The boy gave me a small smile, and then looped around the hammock to exit the room.

The room was small. It seemed to be made all of wood. There was just a hammock, a small make-shift bed in the corner, a lantern, a candle, a garbage can, a wooden chair, and a window. After scanning the room, I glanced back to Newt, who was now sitting in the chair beside me.

He pulled it closer to the hammock, creating a terrible squeal.

I winced.

He did too.

After taking a long sigh, he locked eyes with me.

"Alright greenie, the name's Newt, but I guess you already know that." He started.

Crap, I forgot about last night. It was kind of embarrassing to think back to, now, but I know that there were worst subjects that came up that elevator. Janson told me to lie. He told me I couldn't let them know what I knew.

"How would I know that?" My brows drew together.

"Last night you said my name, right after you came up the elevator." He explained.

I put my best acting face on, and started my improve. I rubbed my head, making a "ah" sound. "I don't really remember last night… What happened?"

He pursed his lips, probably contemplating whether or not I was telling the truth. "Well, first of all, you came up in The Box, in the middle of the night, which is unheard of. You didn't come in glader gear, no supplies came up besides a few crates and a grief serum, and you had a gash on your head, like you've been fighting someone."

Ha, I would hardly call that a fight.

I shook my head, "Nothing sounds familiar."

Newt laughed, " 'Course it doesn't."

I frowned, "What's that supposed to mean."

"Nuthin'." He shook his head, his blonde hair bouncing with volume.

"Where am I?" I tried to sit up even more, but I kind of lost my balance, causing the hammock to swing. So I opted for just laying back down.

"The glade,"

"More specifically,"

"Oh," He whispered, "My room."

I nodded.

"You were in the Med-Jack hut all night, but one of the Slicers cut his arm this morning so we decided to move you."

I made a face. "You know, none of what you're saying is making sense right now." Partially, that was true. What the hell was a Slicer? I should have read up on my glader vocab before hand.

"Right," Newt stood up, eyes darted all over the place but still remaining on the ground. He placed his hands on his hips and shifted his weight. "Well, we should get your tour started when you're ready."

"Tour?"

"Yeah, every greenie gets one."

I swung my laps over the hammock, starting to stand up. "Ugh, why do you keep calling me that?"

"Greenie?" He asked, dropping his hands from his hips and moving them to help me stand.

I was perfectly fine, but it was a sweet gesture. "Yeah. What does it mean?"

He breathed a laugh. "It's what we call the newbie. Every month, on the same day, a greenie like you pops up in the Box. Until the next one comes, that's your nickname."

I pursed my lips in frustration, "But why don't you just call me by my real name?"

He shrugged, "Well, what is your real name?"

My lips parted, and I paused before saying my name. Do I say my real name? I didn't see why not. "Florence."

He didn't respond, just blinked profusely.

"What?" I asked, moving a hand to my hip, "Something wrong with that name?"

He shook his head over ambitiously. "No, no. Nothing's wrong with it. It suits you, has a nice ring to it."

"Thanks," I gave him a cheeky smile, pulling my eyebrows together as I let out a small laugh in reply to his comment, "Anyways, how about that tour?"

"Right," He said, overly British, "I'll go fetch Alby."

"Alby is…?" I eluded towards, although I already knew.

"The leader of the glade, I'm second in command. The glade is what we call this place." He answered.

"Ah, I see."

"Right then," He let out a long-suffering sigh, "Follow me."

He opened the wide door, that didn't perfectly fit into its doorframe. I shut it behind me and continued to observe my surroundings as we walked down a hallway. The homestead looked so different in person.

The whole structure of the building looked like it might fall down any second, but it was pretty impressive for a bunch of teenage boys. There were rooms along the whole hallway, a set of rickety stairs to the lower floor, and even a living room type area by the front door.

"Alby," Newt greeted, sauntering over to bench in the middle of the homestead living room, "This is Florence," He stepped aside to expose me.

I gave him a small wave.

Alby stood from his seat. He smiled, holding out a hand. "Name's Alby,"

"I gathered," I laughed, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet ya, Florence."

"Ditto," I rejoined.

His eyes lifted to my forehead. "That's a nasty gash you got there."

I almost forgot. I touched my forehead, feeling the stitches sewn into my skin.

"Better thank Jeff later, him and Clint stitched you up while you were unconscious," Newt proclaimed from behind me.

I half-face him to nod.

"Well, I have to get going. Zart will probably want some help today, Moe's taking a sick day." Newt declared.

"I got it from here," Alby replied, dismissing Newt.

Newt shot me a warm smile before exiting the homestead. He passed a few boys on the way out, who entered the homestead.

The looks they gave me did not go unnoticed. All three of them actually momentarily stopped to gaze at me. Whether it was my appalling beauty (Ha), or the fact that I was girl, I didn't know. One of them actually bumped into the other, and gave me a double take after looking at me.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Hey, shanks," Alby got their attention, "Something wrong with your legs? Keep movin'"

Thank God for Alby. I hope this wouldn't become a habit for the boys of group A. I gave him a gratitude-filled smile.

The leader placed his hand on my back, leading me out the homestead.

"So, I'd prefer if we could leave questions till the very end. Got it greenie?"

Ugh. Hated the word Greenie. "Affirmative,"

"So this is the homestead," Alby explained, turning around to view it in its full form. "Called that for obvious reasons..."

Alby took me around the whole glade. I understood why they called it that, now. It was gigantic, and vastly spacious. The whole tour took about 2 hours. I hadn't spoken through any of it, and only know was he allowing me to.

The glade was set up pretty evenly. There were the four walls that encased us all inside of the maze. The whole glade was divided into four sections. The gardens, which was in the corner of the north and the east wall, the homestead, which was northwest, the bloodhouse, which was south east, and the deadheads, which was south west.

The bloodhouse is where they slaughtered all the livestock to prepare it for Frypan, the cook. The deadheads is a large forest, a graveyard and a small lake captive inside of it. The runner's hut was located near the deadheads. In the middle of the glade was 'The Box', or the elevator.

There were various other small parts of the glade, such as the Keeper's huts. There was a lookout on top of a tall tree, which was placed just off of the center of the glade. There was a cornfield, a little hang out spot which included some sort of fighting pit, the bathrooms, a live stock pen, and a million other little things.

"And last but not least, the rules." Alby said, turning to face me as we made it back to homestead. Rule number one, everyone does their part."

"But I don't have a part," I objected.

"You will. Rule number two, never harm another glader. And lastly, rule number three. Never go outside those walls." He pointed towards the north opening.

I nodded, "Got it."

He made a face. "Aren't you the least bit curious as to why?"

Crap. "Well…" I shrugged, "I'm sure there's a good reason you're hiding it from me."

"You're damn well right there is. I'll get Newt to show you tomorrow. As for right now, I'd like you to get cleaned up, get some warmer clothes on. Lunch is going to be served soon. After lunch, you start keeper training." Alby started towards the homestead. He walked inside, opening the door for me.

"What's first?" I asked, following him up the stairs.

"Slicers."

"Bleh," I fake gagged. "Wait," Something came into mind, "What am I supposed to wear? They didn't send any clothes up with me, besides the pajamas I'm wearing."

"Newt's in his room, he'll lend you something. He has a few extra clothes, I'm sure he won't mind sharing." Alby knocked on Newt's door.

Newt opened it, greeting us with a smile.

"Wait," I said again, "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"Since the homestead's full, unless someone feels like having a roommate, you can sleep outside with the rest of the gladers." He announced.

I blew a raspberry, causing my long hair to flounder in my face.

"Newt," Alby addressed, "Got any extra clothes for the greenie over here?"

I turned to Newt, who was already making his way over to his small pile of clothes near a sleeping bag. Newt tossed me a long sleeved burgundy shirt and a pair of baggy khakis that looked a little too long for my 5"8 body.

"Thanks," I shot Newt a closed lipped smile.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Listen in for the lunch bell; ask Newt any questions you want." Alby dismissed.

"Thanks, Alby."

"No problem greenie," He exited the room, leaving me grumbling in frustration.

"You really don't like that name, eh greenie?" Newt laughed, standing from his kneeling position on the floor.

I rolled my eyes. "Disliking it is an understatement. It's stupid."

"You're just being bias because you're the greenie."

"Touché," I smirked.

"Well, I'll just leave you to get changed. Knock on the door when you're done so I can come back in." Newt moved towards the door.

I rolled my eyes. "What are we, five? Just turn alright."

"Oh," He widened his eyes. "A-Alright," he clenched his fists together, and nodded, turning around.

I snickered slightly, pulling my shirt off. It had just occurred to me that I didn't have a bra. That would be incredibly uncomfortable, especially during runner training. I would need to make one, or something. I slipped on Newt's shirt, which surprisingly smelt good for boy's who didn't have deodorant.

I slipped off my pants, and something fell to the floor as I did so.

I narrowed my eyes at the object. It was small. I bent down to pick it up. It was the photo. The photo of Thomas, Teresa and I. I froze, only the sound of Newt's and I's breathing now being heard.

"You done?" He asked.

"Uh— no. Not yet. Don't turn around." I pulled on the khaki's and slipped the flimsy photo into one of the pants pockets. No one could see this. I didn't want anyone to see it, either. It was personal. I missed them. "Alright, done."

He turned around. I watched him attempt to discretely scan my body up and down, it was pretty obvious though. He moved back to his pile of clothes, refolding some of them.

"Little long, eh?"

"Hm?" Newt glanced up, and then looked to where I was pointing on my pant leg. "Yeah."

"Here," I said moving towards him. I snatched the machete that hung over his shoulder in a sachet.

"Hey!" He objected, but I grabbed it anyway.

I moved the machete to my pant leg, cutting around it to shorten the pant leg.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!?"

"Making it fit," I elucidated, cutting the other pant leg. "There," I tossed the machete in the air, grabbing the shark end of it and held it back out to Newt.

He shot me a displeased look before taking it and putting it back in place. He turned back to his pile of clothes and pulled something long out, extending his arm. He turned back to face me and held out a small, black belt. "Here," he added, "Don't want your shucking panties showing."

I snorted, taking the belt and putting it around my waist.

"Well," I clapped my hands together, "I'm going to head down to Frypan's early, you coming?" I pointed a thumb behind me.

"Sure," He stood from his kneel and followed me out the homestead.

The whole walk towards the dining hall was excruciating. Every boy that passed me gawked at me like some kind of monster. I even received a few cat whistles, along with a "shottie the new greenie," from one of the boys, Marcus.

I flipped him off, which earned me a glare from Marcus and a chortled fit of laughter from Newt.

"You don't take klunk from anyone, do you?" His laugh faded as he tried to catch up with my fast pace.

"Sure, whatever that means." My lips tightened into a line as I trudged towards the dining hall.

The bell finally rang as we arrived, and Newt and I grabbed a bowl and formed the front of the line. Everyone went quite when they saw me. And i tried to ignore the fact that I knew all of them were staring at me. Why did I have to be the only girl?

"Florence, right? I hear you're the new greenie." I rose my head to greet the new facewho had just broken the unneeded silence.

I gave a warm smile. "You must me Frypan, I'm assuming?"

"The one and only," He beamed, slapping a ladel full of stew in my bowl. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," I responded, following Newt to one of the tables.

"Hey!" A shrill voice from behind me interrupted, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. I turned around. "I'm Chuck, Alby told me to introduce myself, seeing as I was the last greenbean in this shuck place."

One of the boys in line beside me sighed, "Stop pretending to be cool by using glader-slang, greenie."

"I'm not the greenie anymore Chri—" I cut him off with a tight embrace. He made an 'oof' noise. It took him a moment, but eventually he wrapped his two small arms around my waste.

The dining hall went silent. Again.

I hadn't even realized what I had done. It was so impulsive for me to hug Chuck. I knew he didn't remember me, but I just needed a hug from him. He was the only thing remotely close to family or friends I had right now.

"Do you always give people hugs when you first meet them?" Chuck mumbled into my hair.

"I didn't get no bloody hug," Newt huffed from behind me.

I released Chuck, trying to cover the awkward moment with a smile, although I felt like crying. "Nice to meet you Chuck."

"Umm, you too…" He gave me a confused look, before wandering in the opposite direction.

The dining hall filled with chatter again, and I sat down beside Newt.

"That was… odd." One of the boys said across from the table. It was one of the runners. He was cute. Very fit, brawn, of Asian descent, and he had flawless hair that seemed to spike up naturally in his face.

"Do you recognize Chuck?" Alby asked from across the table. I didn't even realize he was sitting there.

I picked up my spoon, stirring my stew in my bowl, avoiding eye contact with all of them. I messed up. Big time. "Just a friendly hug. Is that not allowed or something?" My eyes rose to Alby's. Our eyes were fixed on each other, and none of us made a movement. He was suspicious.

"Nothing wrong with that," he blinked.

"Good." My expression remained neutral. I refused to back down to the leader. He just stared at me, possibly hoping I'd break and reveal my deepest darkest secrets.

"Good that." He affirmed. And after a few more torturous seconds of glaring at each other, he finally gave me a smile.

We ate in silence for a minute, before Newt spoke, mouth still half-full. "I almost forgot. This is Ben," He pointed to another boy, sitting between the runner and Alby. "He's a runner, occasionally helps Gally with building too." Ben was also not terrible to look at. He was in exquisite shape, and he had beautiful eyes, his hair was shaggy, and his ears stuck out. He gave me a little salute wave.

I smiled to him, and then turned to Newt. "Gally… I think I remember him from last night," I lied.

"Yeah, he's keeper of the builders. He's sitting over there." Newt pointed to the very corner of the dining hall. Gally was surrounded by boys who were all attentive to whatever story he was flamboyantly acting out.

Gally caught my gaze for a brief moment. He stared back at me before returning to his story.

"And this," He pointed to the runner sitting directly across from me, "Is Minho. Keeper of the runners."

"Nice to meet ya, greenbean." He shot me a heart-melting smile, but that didn't stop me from rolling my eyes and connecting my forehead to the hard, wooden table. I folded my arms over top of my head.

"She hates that name," Newt explained.

Minho laughed, "Well get used to it, because that's your name for the next month, _greenie._"

I lifted my head, resting my chin on my hands as I shot Minho a playful glare. He smirked back.

"Is it her name for the next month?" Ben implored, "I mean, Chuck came up exactly a month after Taro, but she came up three weeks after Chuck, not a month. Is it a week till the new greenie arrives, or another month?"

Minho shrugged, "Guess we'll have to wait and find out."

"Guess so," I added.

* * *

"Thanks Wisnton," I gave him a wave as I exited the Bloodhouse, although contrary to what I just said, I wasn't thankful at all. I was thankful I was out of that place. I literally gagged after seeing him slaughter a goat. Being a Slicer was definitely not the job for me.

"No problem Florence," Ah, yes. Someone who called me by my real name, "Hey, while you're headed over to dinner, stop at the runner's hut. Minho should have an extra pair of boots in there."

I looked to my feet. I was still wearing slippers from when they took me. I looked back to Winston, giving the keeper of the Slicers a thumbs up, and a "thanks".

The runner's hut was located on the edge of the Deadheads, just across from the bloodhouse. I took my time making it there. When I arrive, I lightly rapped on the door.

"Ben, you don't need to knock." Minho yelled from inside.

"It's me, Florence." I replied.

There was a few footsteps, and then the door opened. "Florence," he looked around behind me, "What are you doing here?"

"Winston said you might have some extra shoes here. Mind if I steal a pair?"

His brows furrowed together as he gazed down at me.

"Is that a yes?"

"Sure," He replied, moving aside so I could step in. "But don't tell Alby I let you in. No one's allowed in the runner's hut besides the runner's.

"Gotcha," I said, moving inside.

I observed the room before I headed for the shoes. There was a small drawing board on the wall across from me. Stacks of papers piled along the floor, some with dirty footprints on them now. In the middle of the room was a large display. It was a miniature version of the maze, made out of little twigs and rocks.

Minho stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the maze. He narrowed his eyes at me, locking his eyes with mine as he bent down to the floor and picked up a few pairs of shoes.

"What size are you?" He asked.

"I'm a—"

"Oh, shuck, I forgot. You probably don't remember."

That was close…

"Oh, yeah. Yeah I don't remember."

"Well here," He handed me three pairs, "Try these on and see what fits."

"Thanks, Minho."

"No problem, greenie."

I groaned.

He laughed.

I rolled my eyes at him and sat on the floor, removing my slippers.

"They must have just snatched you up in the middle of the night, eh? I mean, why else would you arrive in pajamas and slippers."

"You have no idea," I muttered under my breath.

"What?"

"Yeah." I said louder, replying to his comment now. I tried on all three pairs, and the black combat boots seemed to fit the best. I slid them on and laced them up. "Perfect," I said, standing up.

"Now you can run away from all the horny boys chasing you."

I arched a brow at him, frowning as I crossed my arms over my chest. Minho gave me his famous smirk, challenging me as he crossed his arms over his own chest. Damn, I hated how much taller he was.

"I'd say thanks," I started, moving towards the door, "But I'm not that thankful." I gave him a playful smile.

He uncrossed his arms, pointing his finger at me. "You. I like you. You're pretty cool."

"Well," I shrugged with a grin, "That makes one of us," I exited the runners hut, hearing his snicker as I closed the door.

I skipped towards the dining hall, knowing the bell would ring soon by the amount of gladers missing from the glade.

I was halfway to the dining hall when an ear-splitting noise echoed in my ears. It was so loud I literally fell to the floor and covered my ears with my hands. There was a grinding noise, and then I felt the floor shake. Was this an earthquake? Was that possible?

That's when it dawned on me. I turned to the maze doors. I quizzically narrowed my eyes at them to get a better look. They were closing. I sucked in a sharp gasp as I watched them move, and my hands fell to my side as my knees dug into the grass.

The concrete walls leisurely chugged towards each other, at every opening of the maze. I eagerly watched as each protruded spike from the left wall injected itself into the right wall.

When they finally met, a loud boom echoed through the glade. Moments later, the dinner bell rang.

"You alright greenie?" A strong hand placed itself on my left shoulder.

I jumped, sucking in a sharp breath. When I saw it was Newt, I relaxed, letting my body collapse to the floor as I sighed.

He chuckled kneeling down to my body.

"Just the doors closing. You alright?"

I shrugged, "I think so."

"Here," He held a hand out to me.

I stared at it fleetingly before taking it.

"It's just a hand, ever seen one before?" Newt's thick brows lifted.

I shook my head, smiling as I took his hand.

He hoisted me into a standing position.

I dusted myself off as soon as I stood, and looked back to Newt. "Thanks," I beamed, showing my dimples.

His eyes were content on my face.

"Bloody hell," he poked the side's of my face were my dimples were, "Those things are like caves."

I rolled my eyes, stepping around him and toward the dining hall.

"Hey!" He laughed, "I'm only kidding."

"Whatever," I chuckled, entering the dining hall. Not all the gladers had arrived yet. I didn't spy Alby, or Minho, or Winston, or even Chuck. But the gladers that were there had no probably gawking at me just like the last time. Every conversation that was previously happening seized and a wave of silence splashed over everyone. Even Frypan.

I was just a girl, gosh.

No one said anything.

It was terribly frustrating.

Now I knew I would regret this later, but I decided to do something that, as oppose to shutting them up, would get them taking. Maybe they would treat me equally, like Newt did.

I curled my fingers underneath my shirt, and in a swift movement, I lifted my shirt off, uncovering something only girls had.

I heard someone choke on their food, and I watch as most of the boys went slack jawed at my actions.

I dropped my shirt and lifted both hands. I flipped the small crowd of boys off with both hands, and sauntered towards the food table.

Newt followed closely behind me. When the crowd started to slowly erupt into whispers, so did Newt. He leaned close to men, his chin almost on my shoulder. "Did you just do what I think you did?"

"Yup," I replied, popping the 'p' for emphasis. I grabbed a plate of mashed potatoes, along with a piece of bread and a handful of cooked carrots.

Newt followed me like a puppy as I exited the dining hall and opted for sitting outside, where it was deserted. I sat against a large tree, letting my back rest against the rough bark.

"I can't believe you just did that." Newt said in disbelief as he slid down next to me.

I shrugged, "It'll give them something to talk about. Maybe now they'll stop staring at me like I'm some kind of monster."

"Oh you'll give something to talk about alright," Newt confirmed, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. I dug into my carrots. "Tonight's gonna be better than I thought."

I froze. "Tonight?"

"Yeah, we have a little celebration every time a new greenie comes."

"Oh God. They're all gonna love me or hate me."

Newt scoffed, "I can guarantee you that 99.9% of them will be worshiping you after that."

I shrugged, "You could say I made one hell of a statement on my first day."

"No kidding." Newt laughed back. "You know, I can't figure out if you're shy, our outgoing."

I smiled, "I'm a gregarious introvert."

He laughed.

The only plus side to being stuck inside this hellhole was actually meeting Newt. It was weird. We clicked so well, I felt like I've known him forever. It was nice hearing his laugh, seeing his smile, and even watch him limping in person.

As cliché as this was, he was the light in the darkness.

* * *

**A/N: And there's the third chapter! PLEASE drop a review and tell me what you think :) A reminder, i do not own The Maze Runner, only Florence.**


	4. Festivities

As I watched numerous boys dance around the bonfire, making hooting noise and drinking something of Gally's creation, I couldn't help but think of numerous things.

First of all, why was I in the maze?

I get it, I was a variable, they wanted to study their brain patterns after my arrival.

But were they studying my brain pattern too? I was immune, after all. Maybe they planned to send me in the maze the whole time, and they were seeing how I reacted to it.

Secondly, why did they send me up in the middle of the night? They had sent someone up routinely, at the same time, once a month. Why did they break that? The end of the maze trail wasn't even close. Thomas wouldn't even arrive for another month. I missed Thomas, and Teresa. They were the closest things I had to family. Thomas was like an older brother and Teresa a younger sister.

Lastly, why did I still have my memory? It made no sense. None of this made sense. Maybe it would've have been better if I had The Swipe inserted. Now I felt guilty for keeping secrets from the gladers, but I would alter their brain analysis. I just couldn't comprehend why I still had my memory. There had to be some sort of reason for it. They could have sedated me and inserted it no problem.

I was just so confused.

"You alright greenie?"

I lifted my head up.

It was Marcus, one of the boys who cat whistled at me on the way to the dining hall this afternoon.

I nodded, dropping my head again. I shifted my position on the rotted log, and rested my elbows on my knees, leading towards the fire with a jar of water in hand.

I felt his weight drop beside me, and he sat closer then he should have. He leaned forwards, just as I did, and I eyed him cautiously.

"How you enjoying the bonfire?" He said, running a hand through his dark hair. The boy reminded me of Thomas, but much taller and with longer hair, plus his eyes were an off green as oppose to the doe brown.

I shrugged, "S'alright."

"It's for you, shank, enjoy it."

I stuck my tongue out at his name calling, grimacing.

He scooted closer to me, our thighs touching.

I pretended to stretch, using it as an opportunity to move farther away from him. I didn't want to give him the wrong idea.

"You have pretty hair," I could smell the stench of alcohol on his heavy breathing as he leaned towards me, taking a strand of brunette in his large hands.

I frowned. "T-Thanks…" I told him, waiting for him to drop the strand.

He let out a satisfied sigh, bumping me with his shoulder.

I scanned the crowd for Newt.

He was mingling with Jeff, the boy who stitched my gash up earlier. Minho was sitting beside Ben, chatting away, and Gally was on the other side of the dancing fire, in some sort of sand pit pushing another glader. Chuck was sitting beside Alby, babbling away, but Alby paid no attention to him.

"S-So how do you like your first day in the glade?"

I genuinely thought Marcus was being nice for a second, although he slurred over his drunken words.

"Great, so far—"

He placed his hand on my thigh, giving it a tight squeeze as he smiled up at me. The glazed look in his eyes told me he was far from his limit of alcohol tolerance.

I frowned, picking his hand off of my thigh.

"What are you—"

"Move over, shanks." Newt placed both of his hands on our shoulders, pushing us apart as he slid in between us.

_Thank you, Newt._

He gave me a goofy grin.

I smiled contently back at him, seeing Marcus' glowering with disappointment in my peripheral. Marcus let out a long-suffering sigh and stood from his seat, walking over to watch the fight Gally was enduring in.

I sighed in relief. "My hero." I dramatically batted my eyelashes and clasped my hands together, touching them to my cheek

He chuckled, shaking his head. "That guy's a weirdo. Bloody builders." Newt grabbed the jar of water from my hand, and replaced with another jar of brown liquid. "Try this."

I raised my brows, sitting up. "What is this?"

"Dunno. Something Gally made, try it." He suggested.

I pressed my lips against the cold jar, tasting only a small mouthful of it. I swallowed it, almost gagging. "Gross." I handed it back to Newt, switching it back for my glass of water. "What the hell is in that?"

"Rum, and lot's of it." He laughed imperturbably, looking away from me and towards Minho's direction.

"You guys get alcohol?"

"We can request stuff, yeah."

I didn't actually know they could do that. To think about it, I didn't know a lot of stuff about the maze. I didn't even know how to get out. Maybe that's why they allowed me to keep my memory. The maze was never my area, just the beetle blades. I now wished I did research how to escape. I actually didn't know anything about the maze. "How does that work?"

He twisted towards me again. "We just send a note down the box, when the next greenie comes they send stuff up."

"Maybe I can request a bra," I smirked to myself.

Newt snorted. "I'll tell Alby. Maybe they weren't anticipating a girl popping up. Maybe you were a mistake."

Little did he know. My downcast eyes remained on the floor, and I held the jar of water with both hands as I thought back to just last night when they took me from my bed. Newt, sensing something wrong with my vacant look, leaned closer to me in curiously. "Maybe," I replied with a wanly crooked smile, to ease him.

I ran a hand through my long hair, sighing as I straightened my posture. Gally came into my line of sight. I could see him through the dancing flames, shoving a smaller boy out of the sand pit.

A few boys hooted and cheered for Gally, as the smaller boy fell face first into the dirt.

I pointed to them, "How does that work?"

"Hm?" He mumbled, taking a sip of his drink. His eyes followed my pointing, and he 'Oh'ed. "Both players go in the circle and wrestle until one get's pushed out."

I hadn't noticed the thin rope that made a sphere around their feet until Newt pointed it out.

The losing boy's chagrined smile made me pity him. So far, it appeared Gally had beaten everyone. "Seems stupid," I observed audibly.

"It is."

I turned to look at Newt, who was already looking at me, analyzing my face.

"What?" I asked, touching my cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

His pink lips parted, and he grasped his jar tighter, "No. Nothin'."

I coyly smirked, "You alright Newt?"

He seemed to be vacant from his body. His eyes just darted all over my face, just scrutinizing every aspect of it. I snapped my fingers in his face, which caused him to blink out of his reverie. He shook his head, regaining himself, and nodded. He slapped his hands against his thighs, and then stood up. "Alright, stand up greenie." He held out his hand to me. "This celebration's for you, so let's mingle."

I gazed up at him, mystified at what just transpired.

"Well come on then," he shoved his hand closer to me.

I took it, using his weight to help myself up. I placed the jar near my previous spot on the log, and followed Newt hand in hand as he towed me around the bonfire. There was a little hut where Frypan acted as a bartender, serving drinks to a few gladers.

"So this is Jeff," he pointed to Jeff, sitting on a wooden chair in front of Frypan's make shift bar, "You already know that. That's Clint," He pointed to a boy, around the same height as Jeff, but with shaggier hair, similar to Chuck's, and pale skin.

I let go of Newt's hand to give the boys a small wave.

"They're Med-Jacks."

I nodded, taking in the information.

Newt placed his warm hands on my shoulder, towing me towards another clique. "These are the runners, there's pretty much just Minho, Ben, Adam, and Lisle."

"Boys," I gave them a small smile, and they all waved back, except for Minho who gave me a sly wink.

I smiled wider, continuing to follow Newt. "Those are some of the Slopper's over there," Newt signaled towards a group of younger boys who huddled around Chuck. They were all deep in conversation, except for Chuck who was carving something into the wooden log he was sitting on with a small knife. "The builders," He pointed to the sandpit of boys, all who were built brawny and tall.

"Hey Newt," a boy passing by patted the co-leader's shoulder.

"Hey! Hey Veer, come meet Florence." Newt proposed, removing his hand from my shoulder. The boy, Veer, held his hand out to me, a big grin on his face; I took his hand, shaking it as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Veer was a short boy, a little chubbier in the face, and his teeth were crooked.

"Veer's the Keeper of the Baggers. He guards the maze doors."

"Fascinating," I commented.

"Not really," Veer laughed, stalking off.

"That's Zart, Keeper of the Track-hoes." Newt pointed to a blonde boy, average height, who was engrossed in conversation with Winston.

"Cool, cool."

"Yeah, you'll be training with him first thing tomorrow."

"Awesome," I nodded in satisfaction, leaning against Frypan's wooden structure bar, watching the new fight a Slopper was ensuing with Gally.

Silence fell over both of as we leaned against the shaft and watched Gally beat the crap out of the slopper. Eventually, Minho and Veer came along and sparked conversation with Newt. They all created some type of bet against Ben and Gally's fight. Newt and Veer were betting on Gally winning, while Minho voted for his friend.

My eyes wandered over the glade, observing the hard work that had been put into it.

One of the cows mooed in the distance. I departed from the conversation, going unnoticed, and dawdled towards the livestock pen. The cow was the only one awake.

I walked over to the small fence that surrounded the Bloodhouse, and stood on one of the pieces of wood.

It noticed me watching it and lifted his head.

Its tail swung from side to side.

"Hey there," I placed my hand on its head, and patted it. It flinched, but then accepted my comfort.

It made a snorting noise and I laughed quietly. It bowed its head back down to the grass and nibbled on it. I continued to pat it as I glanced back to the middle of the glade. It looked like Gally had succeeded, again, despite Ben's hopeful efforts. Veer and Minho were still absorbed in dialogue, while Newt was looking in my path.

I looked back to the cow, done petting it now, and sat back on the dew-y grass. The next time I looked back, Newt was limping towards me.

I greeted him with a smile, and he returned it.

He sat down beside me and grunted a little bit when his butt landed on the grass. I leaned back, letting my back hit the grass. My eyes gazed up at the inky blackness above me.

I heard a gnawing noise beside me, and I turned my head to Newt, who was lying on his back like me now, looking up at the sky. He was chewing on something, and that was the only noise besides the cheers in the distance and the crackling fire.

When he saw me staring at him, he faced me, a coy smile on his face, still eating.

"Whatcha eating?"

"Dunno," He answered, "Something Fry gave me. Beef or something?"

"Hmm," I answered, turning my head to the cow. "Think she knows she's a goner soon?"

"Not sure," He replied, "You ask funny questions."

"You give funny answers," I challenged back.

He shrugged, looking back to the sky.

I didn't see the moon, I don't think you could see it from the glade, unless you were in the maze, but somehow the glade seemed to be lightly illuminated by the moonlight, although it wasn't in view.

There was some sort of comforting warmth that encompassed Newt and I, and I found myself closing my eyes, unwinding in its extraordinariness.

"Can I ask you something?" I broke the soothing silence, eyes still closed.

"Sure can," he swallowed the last bite of his food.

"How long have you guys been stuck here?" I already knew, but I wanted him to open up to me. I wanted him to trust me. One day, maybe when we escaped this shuck place, I would want to confront him about the day he got the limp.

"Three years." He said it with such sorrow that I felt not only pity, but guilt. I was part of WICKED. "And it's been hell the whole time."

"I bet." I opened my eyes again. I quickly glanced at him, searching for an emotion.

For a second, I considered telling him. I felt this sudden trust for him, like he was loyal. But then, a horrible migraine differed me from that thought.

I moaned, sitting up as I massaged my temples.

"Woah," he sat up, "You alright greenie?"

I groaned, partially from the name, and partially because the sharp pain in my head continued to inject itself inside me. "Just a bad headache,"

"Do you get them often?" He asked, soothingly rubbing my back as I scrunched my eyes shut.

No, I didn't. "I wouldn't know."

"Oh, right. Went me to get Clint? He's just over there talking to Ben."

I shook my head, "It's fine, and it'll pass." I didn't want any attention on me right now. Eventually, after a moment of waiting it out and letting Newt try to aid in making it go away, it did.

"I think the bonfire's ending soon," Newt observed, standing up.

I followed quickly behind him as we made it back to the commotion. The fire was being put out with sand and water, courtesy of the Builders and the Sloppers.

"To Florence!" I heard a few boys cheer from beside me, clanging their glasses and jars together, and spilling copious amounts of their beverages.

They all laughed and smiled at me, before Authoritative Alby stalked over and dispersed the party. "Alright shuckfaces, time for bed. You all better be up tomorrow for work."

Alby, with something underneath his armpit, sauntered towards Newt and I. "Here you go Greenbean." He threw something at me, and I stumbled back trying to catch it. "You're lucky they sent us extra's" he commented, pivoting away.

I looked at the object, it was a sleeping bag.

"Night greenie," The pads of Newt's fingers made contact with my cold skin, and he smiled.

I nodded, smiling back, and I walked, along with the other gladers, towards the homestead. I found comfort underneath the tree Newt and I ate dinner under, which was quite a way's a way from where most of the glader's slept. I slid into the sleeping bag, and unconsciousness came quickly for me.

* * *

A few hours later, I was woken aggressively by shaking hands.

I yawned, looking up to whoever decided to wake me up in the middle of the night.

"Hey Greenie…"

"W-What…?" I croaked. I knew that voice. "What time is it?" I asked, still half asleep.

"Thought maybe now that all those shuck-faces are asleep, you might wanna talk." Someone found comfort beside me, and I blinked, trying to look at whoever was attempting to talk to a half-conscious person in the pitch black.

There was a loud roar in the distance, which instantly woke me up. My head jerked towards the West Doors, where it emitted from.

"Just the shuck grievers." Marcus answered my inaudible question.

Marcus.

Marcus was sitting alongside me, uncomfortably close.

"Marcus... What are you doing?"

"Nothing," He lied, unzipping my sleeping bag.

"Don't. It's cold."

He laughed, still unzipping the bag.

"Shuck off, Marcus."

He placed his hand on my thigh, gripping it tight, and moved his face close to mine. So close, I could feel his hot breath on my lips. "Oh, come on baby."

Okay, this was expected. I was the first girl these boys had seen in, well, ever; so for some of them to be assertive wasn't unanticipated. Was it right? No, but I tried to keep my patience.

"Marcus, go back to sleep. Please."

What he did next caused my blood boil. His hand slithered farther up my thigh, and he even curled his fingers under the line of my pants. That wasn't the worst part.

He crushed his lips to mine, in a completely repulsive and un-consensual way, and he tried to stick his tongue down my throat.

Immediately, I slapped him.

He moaned in pain, and grunted as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a standing position. His grip as so tight on my wrist, that I was absolutely sure it would bruise. I whimpered.

"Just give me a chance, greenie." His voice was so deep that it almost appeared to be an order instead of a suggestion. Now, normally, I was one to believe in second chances, but not in this case, but apparently I had no choice.

He pressed his body closely to mine and thrusted me against the tree.

I 'ahh'ed feeling the back of my head hit the hard bark.

"Marcus, get off of me." I hissed, trying to be as quiet as possible for the sleeping gladers

Once again, he pressed his alcohol-stained lips against mine, even harder this time. I tried to wrench him off of my body but he was pretty strong, being a builder an all.

I punched him in the gut, which got a bit of a reaction out of him. His lips were quickly latched back on to mine though. "Come on…" He whispered against them. His hands found their way under my shirt, his fingers slowly trailing upward.

"Marcus! Get the hell off of me."

He moaned against my lips, using one hand to keep my jaw in place so he could forcefully make out with me. "You're hurting me, stop it. His hands were getting closer and closer, and I tried to writhe out of his grip, but it was so difficult. He was so big and I was so… not.

"Please!" I screamed, not concerned about waking the gladers anymore. "Marcus! Stop it you're hurting me!" My voice cracked due to him cutting off part of my breathing. I tried to claw his arm, but it seemed to have no affect on him.

"Help me! Someone, help me!"

Like a prayer being answered, someone unlatched him from me. Marcus was now on the floor, with Newt straddling him as he was literally beating the crap out of him. Punch after punch. The deathly cracks of Newt connecting his fist with the sharp corner of Marcus' jaw line echoed in the air, and Marcus shrieked in pain.

"You okay?" Minho moved towards me, inspecting me. He lifted my chin, making sure he didn't hurt my face.

"Yeah," I nodded breathlessly.

Everyone was cheering for Newt.

"Beat the shank!"

"Throw him in the slammer,"

"Come on, Newt!"

Alby literally had to pull Newt off of Marcus, because he willingly wouldn't do it, even though Alby threatened to throw Newt in the slammer too.

Marcus hunched over and spat up a mouthful of blood, while Minho, who was no longer beside me, and another glader had to keep Newt from continuing to beat the living klunk out of him.

Almost every glader was awake now, surrounding the commotion that had just occurred, some even brought lit torches.

"Throw him in the slammer, no food for a day and he stays there for a week," Alby ordered Veer and another bagger.

They both nodded, and dragged the wounded boy to the makeshift jail.

Newt shrugged off Minho and the other glader's hold on him, and stormed towards me. "I'm gonna kill that bloody shuck-face." His normally calm and pleasant demeanor quickly faded as he consumed the rage inside him. His nostrils flared, his brows pulled together, and his lips were pulled into a tight line. The adrenaline-filled Newt continued to stomp closer.

"Not if I do first," Minho added.

"Newt I-"

"Are you okay?" he cupped my face inside his bloody hands, and inspected me. I flinched at first, not because I was frightened of him but because I hadn't expected receive comfort in the physical form from him.

I nodded, exasperated and not knowing what to say.

"Good," his eyes darted all over my face, "Good… Good that." He panted. When he finally calmed down, he dropped his hands from my face. He wrapped his hand around my wrist, and I winced.

"Ow,"

He lifted my wrist to look at the already swelling bruise.

When he saw it, he inhaled sharply, trying not to illustrate his obvious rage.

"You've got to be shucking—"

"Newt." Alby addressed strictly. "Calm down."

Newt's jaw dropped. "I'm not going to bloody calm down, Alby. Did you see what just happened? He bloody tried to rape her!"

"We know, Newt. He's in the slammer now." Alby crossed his arms over his chest and minimally glared at us. I had to admit, I was kind of annoyed at how nonchalant Alby was about this.

"I'm taking her with me," Newt placed a hand on my back and tried to lead me towards homestead.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Newt."

"I am **not **letting her stay out here with these shuck faces." He raised his voice in anger. "Come on, Florence."

It was the first time I had heard him call me something other than Greenie.

He towed me upstairs, ignoring the gawking eyes of the other gladers, and took me to his room.

He shut the door behind me, leaving us in the dark. I heard the other gladers leisurely start to go back to bed to, as well as some enter the homestead to head back to sleep.

"You can take the hammock, I'll take the sleeping bag," He ordered, breaking the deafening silence.

"No, no, I'll take the sleeping bag. You're already letting me intrude."

"Take the hammock, Florence."

"Newt, I don't want to—"

"Take it." He didn't say it rudely; he simply just dismissed the idea of me taking the sleeping bag.

"Thank you," I thanked him quietly, preparing myself to sit in the hammock.

I thought I saw him give me a hint of a smile as he unzipped the bag.

I laid down in the hammock, pulling the blanket over myself. I had woken up here, and now I was falling asleep here.

"Are you okay?" I croaked a while later, my voice slightly cracking.

"Am I okay? Am I okay? Of course I'm bloody okay, Florence… Are you okay?"

"Just a little shaken up" I told him.

Seconds later, I heard a light snore fill the room. I smiled to myself, rotating myself to curl into a fetal position in the hammock. My wrist was throbbing in pain, but I tried to discount the unwanted sensation. I clutched it with my other hand, and sighed.

Newt had saved me.

I had known the boy for a year now, but he only knew me for a day, and he saved me. Not Minho, not Alby, not Ben, Newt. That meant something, didn't it? He cared about me, as a friend. I had spent the whole day with him, and gotten to know him on a different level then I did when is saw him through a screen.

I was thankful for him, and the other gladers who cared for me.

On one hand, I hated this place. But on the other hand, I had never felt so at home.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was sort of rushed, but I hope you enjoy :) Thanks for the reviews! I noticed in some of them, people ere questioning why Florence still has her memories. I promise you there is a reason, but I can't tell you just yet! You'll just have to wait and find out. Thanks again guys.**


	5. Cheers

**I do not own the Maze Runner. SPECIAL THANKS TO SCARLETT THE STARLET :) She's awesome and made my cover photo! Isn't it amazing?**

* * *

_A hallway. I was in a hallway. Where was I? In the maze? No. I was at WICKED's headquarters._

_I was running, running from something, or someone. I followed where my feet took me, sprinting along the corridor. I could hardly catch a breath. _

_There was chatter behind me, but all I saw was blurs of dark shadows._

_My heartbeat raced like a runaway train. It echoed in my ears, reminding me of footsteps, pounding down on me. I continued to wheeze short quick breath's as I turned the hallway, still sprinting full speed. I slipped, bashing my knee into the concrete floor, but hastily regained myself._

_I had no idea where I was going._

_Where there no doors in this place?_

_Without delay, the hallway started to narrow in front of me. I couldn't even see the end of it, despite the dim light. A hallway shouldn't be this long. I should have reached the end by now._

_I kept trying to run from the shadows that were gaining speed on me, but it was no use. It was like I was on a treadmill, full speed. _

_"No no no…" I breathed._

_"FLORENCE."_

_My head jerked to my name being called, but there was no one there. Only a door magically morphing beside me as if I was in some kind of Harry Potter movie. I leapt through the door, only to plummet downwards. It was a hole. I was falling, gaining speed with each passing second._

_I let out a small shriek as I struggled to travel around, to grasp onto something to stop my impending death._

_"FLORENCE."_

_There it was again, my name._

_But all I could see was darkness._

_"FLORENCE."_

_"Thomas…?" That was his voice, I was sure of it now, "Thomas!"_

_My body slowed, and I found myself floating. I was hovering in the darkness, like in space. I tried to scream, but nothing emanated from my mouth, only carbon dioxide._

_Everything was silent, like I was underwater. _

_I was underwater. _

_A bright flash blazed in front of me, burning my eyes. I shut them, shielding my face. When it finally diminished, minutes later, I reopened them._

_I was in a lab. Well, I was in a tank full of water, inside of a lab. Tubes were attached to me, as well as some type of IV which was injected into my deep blue veins. _

_A colossal, crushing weight hit the middle of my chest, sending me backwards in the tank. I couldn't breathe. There were no tubes. My chest felt like it was capsizing. The inability to inhale set me in a panicked frenzy. My last breathe was rapidly fading, and my head felt like it was going to explode due to the immense pressure._

_I tried to scream, 'Help' but it just came out as an explosion of bubbles._

_I clenched my hands together, forming fists, and pounded on the glass in hopes of receiving attention from any of the numerous scientists sitting in work pad desks._

_From the back of the room I was in, I witnessed a figure burst in, appearing just as panicked as I was. But I couldn't perceive sound. All I heard was muffled babbles._

_The figure came closer into view, and when he saw me, he leapt forward on the pedestal the tank was on. _

_Thomas eyes were bugeyed and his face covered in panicked sweat. He searched for anything to break the glass, he shouted at the scientists, he pounded his fists against the tank, but it was no use._

_I screamed, one last time, exhaling all the air I had in my lungs, and then relaxed._

_Thomas continued to strike the glass with his fists, anticipating success, but we both knew there was no use._

_His mouth was furiously shouting, and spit soared out of it. _

_The last thing I saw was Thomas admitting defeat, as I inhaled a bountiful of water._

_It was actually kind of peaceful, death. The instinct to not let water in was so overbearing, that I actually felt like my head was going to detonate due to the crushing pressure._

_I felt everything slow down, like I was in a dream, and then I closed my eyes._

"Rise and shine greenie," My body shook, but the source wasn't from me. Someone was causing me to wobble aggressively side to side. "Shuck, is it always this hard to wake you up?"

My eyelids had a difficult time flickering open, but when they did, I was faced with a scruffy-looking Newt, looming over me.

At first, I went bug-eyed, but then, I made a contorted face as I attempted to blink the sleep out of my eyes.

"Finally," He rolled his eyes, "The breakfast bell has been ringing for, shuck, like five minutes now. You must be a deep sleeper." He removed his hands from my shoulders and retreated a step. "I didn't have time to show you what I wanted to show you. Guess it'll have to wait till tomorrow."

I knew what he was going to show me. He was going to take me to the griever window, near the Deadheads, they always did to the greenies on their first morning after arriving, it was nothing new, but I acted like it was. "What were you going to show me?"

"Well if I can actually wake you up tomorrow, you'll find out."

I let out a breathy laugh and sat up in the hammock, stretching out my limbs.

With a small huff at my uncouth wakening, I stood.

His choleric façade from last night had clearly moderated, and he was back to his regular, limpy, British, adorable self. He opened the door, trekking for the dining hall, and my languid body trailed directly at rear. I inhaled a comfortable sigh as we stepped into the sun-soaked glade. The air was crisp, the sky was vivid with color, and the dew on the grass dazzled with intensity; courtesy of the sun's luminescence.

"So who's Thomas?" Newt enunciated.

I seized in my tracks.

Newt walked a few steps ahead of me, before pivoting around to face me in curiosity.

"W-Who?" I stuttered. I hadn't spoken of Thomas, how would he know his name?

"Thomas, you said his name in your sleep." His glazed expression was inscrutable to interpret. Did he suspect something? I hope not.

"I… I don't know." The corner of my lips quirked downward as I lied to my only friend in the glade. "Is there someone named Thomas here?"

"Nope," He replied, popping the 'p' as he began to embark on his journey to food again. "You sure you don't remember anything?" He looked back to me, and his face was grave and somber now. His thick brows pulled together, and I couldn't help but smile at the little crease he got in his forehead when he made that face.

"If I did, I'm pretty sure I would tell you by now. Why would I want to stay in this shuck place?" I lied again.

"Hey!" Newt's grim pretense faded, and he pointed at me with a genuine smile, "Using glader slang."

I shrugged, "It's rubbing off on me."

He let out a breezy laugh as he patted my back, towing me towards the mouth-watering aroma of pancakes.

* * *

Working as a Track-Hoe wasn't _completely_ terrible, but that's probably because Newt was there for parts of my shift. Zart was a nice guy, don't get me wrong, but I understood why they called him Zart the Fart now. One, because he was exerting copious amounts of rancid sweat while working in the sun, which made him smell something similar to sour milk, and two, because he could be extremely annoying barking orders constantly.

In the last five hours, I had planted numerous rows of seeds, extracted weeds throughout the gardens, watered plants, took down a tree in the Deadheads, and now, I was sitting on my butt, in the dirt, wiping sweat off my forehead, as I tried to veil myself in the cornfields from Zart.

It was warm, today, or maybe that was just me overworking myself and causing an overproduction of unwanted body heat, either way, I needed a shower. Pronto. But I couldn't shower right now, the boys would all be there. I had to go at night when everyone was asleep.

"Sleeping on the job, Greenie?"

I looked up from my criss-crossed position, peeking out of the cornfields to see Minho, strolling alongside the field, obviously headed somewhere.

"Minho! Minho, please, save me from Zart. He's going to be the death of me, I swear." I begged, pleading with my hands.

"No shucking way," He chuckled, placing his hands on his hips.

"Minho, please." I was about to plead with him again, when I realized something. "Aren't you supposed to be running? The doors don't close for another two hours."

"It's Wednesday, my day off. Come on greenie, I'm disappointed. You should know that," He scolded me with a smirk. He held out his hands, offering to pull me up.

I took them, gladly, and dusted my dirty behind off with my hands as I spoke. "Hey, I've been here for like two and a half days, I don't know klunk."

"Well you know how to appropriately use the word klunk," he commented.

I shrugged, "its progress." I placed my hands on Minho's shoulders, darting my eyes hastily to Zart, who was still barking orders at another Track-Hoe, dictating him to move faster. "Now Minho, I'm begging you. Please save me. If I exert any more physical exercise I think I might actually die. And I don't mean pass out, and get tired, I mean really die. Like repulsive, choking on my own blood, disgusting, broken spine die."

"Well when you put it that way," Minho rolled his eyes sarcastically. "What's in it for me?"

"An 'I owe you'?" I offered, dropping my hands as I glanced back at Zart, who appeared to be looking for me now.

Minho narrowed his small eyes at me, a tight-lipped smile on his face. "Hmm.."

"Where's the greenie?" I heard Zart call out from his position, his bleach blonde hair standing out in the small crowd of Track-Hoes.

I averted my eyes, turning back to Minho, "Fine," he finally obliged, "You're helping me clean the runners hut though." He stalked off in the other direction, and I followed closely behind.

"Wait," I skipped, relieve I had escaped from Zart, "I thought I wasn't allowed in there? Alby will be furious."

Minho leaned his head over his shoulder, smirking, "Don't let him find out."

"Done." I affirmed, trotting closely behind him as I observed the glade. "Hey Chuck," I smiled at Chuck who was walking with Mund, another Slopper a few years older than him. Chuck, for the most part, wasn't weirded out by me anymore after our awkward introduction yesterday. He seemed to shake it off completely this morning when I ate breakfast with him this morning. He actually was chatting to me about a prank he was planning to play on Veer later, which was a bad idea.

Veer seemed like the type of guy to fight back in situations like that, or fill with rage like the hulk and detonate in fury.

"Hey Florence!" He waved frantically back, "Hows your day going?"

"Not too bad," I told him, "Yours?"

"Meh," He held up his pile of clothes, "Lots of laundry."

I frowned, "Sorry about that, Chucky."

He gave me an odd look at first, but then smiled. "Cool, I got a nickname," he told Mund, slogging off in the other direction.

When I looked beside me for Minho, all I saw was a large bug. I glanced up. Minho was still trekking towards the runners hut, not even stopping for me. I looked back to the large bug.

It made a whirring noise, and it almost appeared to be looking at me.

I narrowed my eyes, kneeling to the floor to look at it.

My eyes widened when I comprehended what it actually was.

The silver, cylindrical body, the twelve jointed legs, the blinding, pulsating lights in its eyes, it was a beetle blade. My own creation.

It was watching me, observing me, and not scurrying off like we were told to do when a glader saw us. I wasn't sure why, but I felt a strong connection to this particular beetle blade. Something wasn't right.

"Thomas…?" I whispered to it.

In some sort of form of an answer to my question, the beetle blade pounced, latching on to one of my pant legs. It started crawling up the side of my leg, tickling me in the process. Its legs moved at a rapid speed, too fast for me to see clearly. Its appendages blurred as it made its way to my torso, inching over my shoulder and down my left arm. I flinched when it left a small scratch on my collar bone.

It twisted to face me when it got to my hand, and I lifted it in the air, pulling it closer to my face. I was pretty impressed, seeing my creation up close. I hadn't seen one of these babies in a while. They were all in the maze, doing their jobs. I was almost positive this was Thomas, attempting to reach me. He normally didn't work in my department, but he was authorized to do so if he wished. I raised the beetle blade even closer to my face, "Thomas, is it you? Give me a sign."

The beetle blade remained still for multiple seconds.

"Thomas… Do something." I hissed. It didn't respond for a few seconds, but then the front portion of its body lifted in the air. It made a buzzing noise as it raised its body up and down, like a bow, or push up's. It was attempting to nod. It was Thomas.

I breathed a sigh of relief, although I don't know why. It's not like he could talk to me, but I could talk to him.

"I miss you guys."

It didn't do anything. I didn't care, I just wanted him to hear.

"I miss you… I miss you and I want to come back."

My lip quivered as I thought about them. I could feel the tears pooling, and I glanced around, making sure no one was watching me.

When the coast was clear, I looked back to the Thomas-beetle.

"I miss you, and Teresa. I don't understand why they sent me. None of it makes sense. Why do I still have my memories?"

Its legs moved forward half an inch, tickling my wrist with its thin legs.

"I guess you can't answer that," a tear fell from my left eye. I felt the warm liquid race down my cheek, then fall to the floor after momentarily hanging from my jaw line. "It's not so bad here, I just feel so… guilty. I don't know. I just… I miss you. You and Teresa, and I love you guys."

Out of nowhere, the beetle blade jerked forward, and then backward. Its legs scratched against my palm, and I winced, but still detained it there.

This wasn't normal behavior.

I just stared at it. I stared and stared and stared, and didn't say anything; because this was possibly the only contact I would get with Thomas again. A minute or so passed, and then it did the same thing. It started going deranged. It was having some internal fight, maybe someone else trying to take control? Its appendages retracted, then exposed. It scurried all over my hand. It paused for a few seconds, but then one of the legs morphed into a small knife and cut a clean, thin, slice across the middle of my palm.

I let out a small shriek, dropping it.

I looked at the wound, which was deep and heavily bleeding red. When I glanced back to the beetle blade on the floor, it was long gone, scurrying away into the west maze doors.

"No!" I said a little too strident, catching the awareness of a few gladers. A couple gladers were apparently watching me, now, including Minho, who just narrowed his eyes at me from the runner's hut.

"I… Uh…" I choked on my own words. Luckily, no one saw me talking to the beetle blade or calling out Thomas' name, so I was in the clear. I think they were more curious about the beetle blade, then me. They were all wondering why it approached me, and why it was in my hand, like some kind of pet. "Umm…" I took a few steps back, stumbling over a rock. "Woah!" I caught my balanced, exhaled a nervous laugh, and walked transformed into a slight jog towards the med-hut.

Jeff and Clint were both gone, which was disappointing. Luckily, I had taken many first aid courses in my life, and luckily, unlike these shanks, I remembered taking them.

The med jack-hut was set up pretty unproblematicly. There were two gurneys made out of sticks, wood, a few pillows, and a stretchy fabric in the middle of the room. There were two tables, one that had all sorts of medicines and pills, as well as serums and needles, and the other which contained bandages, band-aids, pre-made tourniquets, rope, thread, needles for stitching, and various other materials.

I went over to the medicine, grabbed a sterilizing alcohol and a cotton pad. I poured a small amount of the alcohol onto the cotton, and then pressed the cotton to my slice. I let out a small, teeth-gritting, shriek when it came in to contact, sending a burning sensation up my arm.

Afterwards, I placed a bandage over my palm, and then wrapped it around, leaving a gap for my thumb to stick through, though. When I was done, I cut the fabric, and tucked it in one of the loops.

A heard a slow clap from behind me.

It was Jeff and Clint, smiling triumphantly.

"Wow," Clint commented.

"I'm impressed," Jeff added. "We'll have to talk to Alby about you being a Med-Jack."

I shrugged, making a 'pfffft' noise. "That was nothing."

"No," Clint objected, "Actually that wasn't nothing. That was pretty shucking awesome. All the slintheads in this glade don't know half as much as what you just displayed."

"Well, thanks." I thanked them, finally taking the compliment.

Clint and Jeff sent me unanimous smiles that were interrupted by the dinner bell.

"Yes!" Clint cheered, "I'm starving," They both ran out the hut, and I followed closely behind.

* * *

I poked at my beef with my fork, drowning out the conversation that Newt, Ben, and Minho were having. My mind was drifting towards Thomas and Teresa, once again.

I was still trying to make sense of everything.

"How the bloody hell did you get that?" Newt pressed a finger to my wounded palm.

"Ouch," I hissed, snatching my hand back.

He waited for my answering, ignoring my wince of pain.

"It was a beetle blade," I responded, "Or whatever you call those things," I tried to sound casual.

Newt arched a brow, "So that's what everyone's talking about."

"Hmm?" I dropped my fork, looking up at Newt who was now looking down at his found.

Minho answered for him. "A few of the builders, and me, saw you with the beetle blade earlier."

"What's so wrong with that?" I asked, sitting up in my seat.

"Well, those things don't normally get close to us. That one seemed to be all over you, like it was trying to get your attention."

"Oh?" I challenged.

"Yeah," Minho replied. "That was an odd one."

"Well it's evil too," I informed them as I looked down at the white bandage, which was still perfectly intact.

"That's gonna leave a nasty scar," Newt pointed out, almost poking it again. I flinched. "Jeff bandaged you up pretty well," He observed.

"I did it, actually."

Newt's eyes widened, "Impressive."

"Thanks," I grinned, "They said I would make a good Med-Jack."

"Yeah, well clearly a Track-Hoe isn't going to work," Minho scoffed.

I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, Zart said somethin' about you running off," Newt smiled, chewing a mouthful of beef as he ran a hand through his hair.

"It was terrible Newt… You have no idea."

Newt chuckled, "Suck it up, buttercup."

We all ate in silent for a minute, trying to catch up to the gladers who were already exiting the dining hall.

"You know, I like you Florence." I glanced up at Minho, who had a mouthful of food in his mouth.

"Yeah?" I laughed, genuinely happy at his remark.

"Yeah," Minho responded, "You're not like the rest of these shucks."

"Yeah," Ben agreed, "You're pretty cool, for a girl and all."

I rolled my eyes, smiling.

"Meh." Newt shrugged beside me.

"Hey!" I elbowed him, which sent him into a chortle of laughter.

I laughed with him, and Minho and Ben even chuckled.

"To Florence!" Minho held up his cup of water, signaling a toast.

"To Florence," Ben affirmed, raising his glass to Minho's. Newt joined in, and eventually I did too.

Our glasses all clanked together, and we all laughed, smiling at eachother as we finished our food.

I had made good friends in the glade already, and I cared for them, truly, but I couldn't help and think about the encounter with the Thomas-beetle earlier. I missed my old friends. I missed them a lot, and it left a constant ache in my chest knowing I couldn't see them again, and the next time I would, they wouldn't even know who I am.

I hated WICKED.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this chapter kind of sucks, I was literally falling asleep writing it. It's sort of a filler. Please review and let me know your thoughts. Thanks for the previous reviews from Mina, softball007, ssweetdisposition, darklou and ChpNinjaChick! Enjoy :)**

**Also Important!**

**I know it's kind of a cliche for the OC to be a Med-Jack, but Florence is named after Florence Nightingale, so she kid of has to purse in the medical industry. Originally, before I didn't know her name, I was going to make her a Track-Hoe!**

**Anyways, thanks.**

**R&amp;R :)**


	6. Night Terrors

_Again, with the hallway. Only this time, I know who was chasing me. And this time, Thomas wasn't there to save me._

_Janson was dead on my heels, with another man, unfamiliar to me. I couldn't get the best look of him, but from what I could tell, he was shorter, but not extremely short. His head was cropped into a neat faux-hawk, and he seemed to be in pretty good shape. He was in his 30's, near the same age as Janson._

_I could hear my heartbeat in my ears due to the immense amount of physical exertion I was enduring in. Everything was too vivid._

_The hallways narrowed with every falling step of my feet. My footsteps seemed to echo, like some kind of hallucination, where the sounds of my light steps ricocheted off the walls. It seemed to get darker, so dim I could hardly perceive anything apart from the two ominous men stalking me._

_I was sprinting so hastily, I could barely prevent myself from crashing into the well when I came to a dead end and had to turn. The wind buzzed my ears, and the whirring sound never faded as I pushed harder with each lunging step._

_"HELP!" I screamed, trying to get anyone's attention._

_The whole building seemed abandoned, no one but us three._

_"SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!" My shrill voice shrieked, tears starting to run down to my voice, due to the amount of wind coming into contact with my eyes, and because I was scared. I was frightened more than I ever had been, more then when they forced me into the maze._

_"PLEASE!" I whimpered._

_But it was too late._

_A brawn pair of arms snaked themselves around my waist, lifting me over their shoulder. They hauled me down the hallway, slowing their pace now. I thrashed in their arms, hoping to hit something, or scratch a limb. All I could see was the hallway vanishing behind us, leaving traces of muddy footsteps from the two men._

_I watched as Janson moved around us and plunged a syringe into my neck. I winced as the spine entered my skin. The injection made me drowsy._

_I closed my eyes, feeling immensely tired._

_It felt like I only blinked, but the next time I opened them, I was on a surgical steel table, a cold one at that. There was a heart monitor that annoyingly beeped beside me, and the scent of disinfectant burned my nostrils, making me flare them._

_The man that I saw earlier with Janson, was above me. He had a mask on his face, as well as a scalpel in hand. His eyes were fixed in mine._

_They were so big, so green, and so bright._

_I was mesmerized._

_But my fixated gaze was broke by his jerking motions around me._

_There was a cacophony of commotion behind me as he grabbed supplies, placing them on a small table with a blood-stained cloth on it. He was dressed in medical gear, like a doctor, or like one of the surgeons that experimented on the cranks in WICKED's HQ's basement._

_A Crank._

_He thought I was a crank._

_I tried to object to what he was about to do, but I was paralyzed. I could only move my eyes. My body felt numb, and I was helpless. I wanted to scream, but nothing emitted._

_The heart monitor beside me picked up in its beeping because of my panic. His eyes momentarily flickered to the monitor, but that didn't even ostracize him. He started tinkering with the small drill, turning it on and off, distributing shivers up my spine because of the unnerving noise it generated._

_This wasn't real. This wasn't real. _

_But it felt so real._

_He moved around me, placing himself behind my head. I could hear him, and I could sense him, but I couldn't see him. He sighed, picking up the small drill with a rotating cylindrical knife at the end of it. He pressed it once, and then turned it on. The drilling noise emitted, echoing in the small room._

_I could hear the drilling getting closer and closer, but I was still paralyzed._

_It got closer and closer, so close that it was only a millimeter from my scalp line, until finally, I let out a scream._

* * *

I could feel the air suck out of my body like a vacuum as I was finally able to emit the word "NOOOOOOOO". The atmosphere around me felt tense, stickier than before. Tears fell rapidly down my face, and I struggled to steady my trembling body in the arms of my detainer. "NO!" I howled again, fisting the shirt of whoever was holding me.

Sobs wracked my body as someone attempted to contain me in my bed. Someone was holding me, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me violently in my hammock. I was sweating, lavishly. The jarring realization that it was just a night terror never seemed to really set in.

All I could only centralize on was the salty taste in my mouth from my tears, and focusing on trying not to choke on my own spit.

One moment, I was having my brains cut open by WICKED, the next; I was in a dimly lit room, being quaked forcefully by someone's aggressive hands. They were yelling something at me, but I couldn't hear. Everything sounded distant, like I wasn't really there, like I was underwater, just like the dream. Was I still dreaming? I couldn't tell!

"Don't let them hurt me!"

I felt dazed; I couldn't comprehend what was going on. I just kept whimpering, even letting out small shrieks every now and again. Everything was distorted, and I was still running on a vast amount of adrenaline.

"Florence! It's me! Calm down, it's me, Newt!"

I was cold, but sweating. I was aware of my surroundings, but in shock. Moonlight streamed through giving the room an ominous feel. When I finally grasped a handle on my environment, Newt's room, I stopped screaming.

It was as if a curtain had been drawn from my senses. Realism set in, and I took heed of the only sound in the room, two sets of overworking lungs, making more use of them then they should have at this time of night.

My pupils dilated and my blurry vision focused on a shape in front of me. It was a head, which had a mop of blonde hair and a pair of beautiful, mesmerizing eyes, which were incredibly wide right now, along with a chiseled jaw line and alarmed expression.

He went slack jawed, and just froze, fixated on me.

Everything was still slightly blurry, due to the tears, but I could still see him as he inhaled vociferously, gulping, and then softened his grip on my shoulder. He transformed into a massaging motion, nurturing me now that he had woken me.

Our heads harmoniously jerked towards the door, which Alby, Minho, and Gally had just burst through.

They fashioned panicked expressions, Minho seeming still half-asleep.

"What's wrong?" Minho asked, the same time Gally said "Is she alright?"

"We're alright," Newt answered for me, still moving his thumb back and forth on my bare shoulder blade, "Just a bad dream."

"I heard a scream," Alby acknowledged.

"I-I'm sorry," My body still shook violently, but I tried my best to hide it in front of them.

"Just a bad dream," Newt repeated, sending them away by shutting the door.

"You'd think she's going through the shuckin' changing or something," Minho mumbled as I heard their sluggish footsteps get quieter and quieter, till finally, it was silent, only my labored breathing audible now.

"Are you alright?" Newt asked; one hand still on my shoulder while the other ran through his messy bed-head.

"I-I'm sorry…" I apologized, trying to blink back the tears.

"No…" He comforted, "No, no, don't apologize." I was elatedly taken aback when Newt pulled me into a tight hug.

I felt too weak to wrap my arms around him, so I just cushioned my wet face against his shoulder, still fisting his shirt. We were speechless for a few seconds; just listening to the sound of each other's working lungs. Eventually, my breathing became more organized, and latterly I matched the rise and fall to Newt's own chest.

I wasn't completely back to my usually tranquil state, but I was mostly there, but the nerve-wracking sobs still escaped every now again, as well as the fit of shivers.

"Cold, Greenie?" He maundered into my hair.

I trembled again, sending a wave through my body.

"Sorta," I tried to force a laugh.

He released me, without looking me in the eyes, and led me to the hammock. "Come on, get back in the hammock."

I obeyed his orders, feeling like a patient. I sat in it, swinging my legs onto the hammock.

I wrapped the blanket tightly around me, gazing up at Newt. The corners of his lips quirked up into a small, weary, smile.

I batted my eyelashes, feeling too weak to even smile. I just kept shaking, which caused the hammock to swing.

He trudged tiredly towards his bed, and I heard him shuffle around as he tried to get comfy again.

An aura of depression hung over me, and I didn't feel tired anymore, only scared. I was scared to fall asleep again; I was scared to meet the man in my dreams again. His eyes were so _vivid. _I would never forget them. It was all so surreal, which only haunted me more.

I was becoming more and more of an insomniac.

"Newt?" My teeth chattered.

I thought he had fallen asleep, but when he replied back with a somnolent "Hmm?" I felt my heartbeat stutter.

"C-Can you come sleep with me?"

Instead of replying, I heard him yawn. There was a small scuffle, and then the next thing I knew, I felt a heavy weight hit the hammock, and it swung back and forth violently. He breathed a small laugh as the hammock startle to settle into a more soothing motion, and shifted his body closely beside mine.

Clearly, he wasn't fully conscious at this point, but it was still nice to feel the warmth of another body next to mine. It gave me something to grip onto of the real world. It helped me comprehend that this wasn't a hallucination.

"Don't leave until I wake up," I told him, observing his small face. His eyelids were closed, but I didn't hear his usual light snore, so I didn't think he was asleep.

"I won't." He mumbled back.

I had finally molded myself comfortably to the hammock and felt drowsiness take over.

"What'd you dream about greenie?"

My eyelids flashed open to see a still half-unconscious Newt.

"Bad things."

"…Such as?"

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to rid the horrible night terror. "I was in a room, a brightly lit one. There was a man beside me, trying to cut me open. He was testing me, or experimenting on me or something, but I was still awake. I couldn't move my body, I kept trying to scream but I couldn't do anything, I was paralyzed." A lone tear fell down the side of my cheek.

When I felt a warm touch wipe the tear off my cheek, I reopened my eyelids. Newt's eyes were open now, and he let his touch loiter on the side of my face.

"I used have bad dreams too, yanno." His words slurred, and I knew that conscious Newt would soon weaken.

"About what?" I asked, genuinely curios.

His eyes closed again, and he yawned, and his hand fell from my face, falling between my chest and his.

"Maybe I'll tell you sometime," He mumbled. His body relaxed, and I firmed on finally letting him snooze now.

I would undeniably never descend back to sleep again, especially with the sunrise only a few hours away, so instead of thinking about the night terrors that continued to haunt me, I thought about the boy with the blonde hair and the British accent, who was currently snoozing endearingly beside me.

* * *

Surprisingly, I had fallen asleep sometime during dawn. Even more notably, Newt wasn't there when I woke up, but judging from the amount of sunlight that steamed through the small window, it was reaching mid-day, and he would be doing important stuff with Alby right now.

I laid in the hammock for a while, just swinging myself back and forth, trying to sooth the nerve's that were still there. I just couldn't get those green eyes out of my head, and the noise. The unforgettable drilling sound that was etched in my brain.

When I was ready, I got up, skipping breakfast, and exited the homestead. Everyone was just starting their job in the glade. I heard the livestock in the distance, and a few gladers walked by, lugging wood and crates. I gave them a small smile, heading towards the doors where Veer was. Although I was keen on being a med-jack, I would still try out the other jobs, because if I didn't, Alby would force me to anyways.

"Hey Veer," I shot him a crooked smile as I ambled towards him. He was standing in front of the maze doors with another boy, taller, but looked younger than him. Clearly he was a bagger as well, but he seemed to be relaxing.

He gave me a nod, smiling, and waved me over.

"Florence, how are you doing?" He asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I knew he was referring to my screams last night. The whole glade could hear me. Hell, the grievers could hear me. "I'm… fine…" I averted my eyes from his and rubbed my forearm.

He dropped his hands, and smiled in reply. "Right, well, time to get started."

"Good that," I replied.

"Hey," Veer pointed at me, "Glader slang, I like it. You're becoming one of us."

I chuckled, following him as he walked away from the doors and towards the forest.

Questioning our motives, I asked, "Why are we going to the Deadheads?"

"You'll see." He answered, still ahead of me in his quest.

We walked through the thick foliage, bush whacking a little bit, despite the small trail the gladers made. "This," Veer extended his arms, revealing a part of the forest I hadn't seen, "Is the deadheads."

Now that I thought about it, I hadn't gone into the forest at all, I'd only seen the outside of it, and after observing what Veer was showing me, I wanted it to stay that way.

There were appallingly marked graves strewn across a batch of gravel. The smell of rotten carcasses sent a rancid odor my way, and hundreds of flies bee lined over the corpses. Most of them weren't buried properly, so the heavy rain they occasionally received caused a few limbs to poke out of the dirt and gravel.

I bet Group B had a much more suitable way of disposing bodies, not to be sexists or anything.

"So this is why they call it the dead heads," I concluded, cringing at the make-shift cemetery. It was sweet, despite the horrid appearance of it all. They made graves out of wooden sticks and nailed planks to them, writing a few words about them and their name, also, their occupation.

"You got it." Veer shook his shaggy black hair out of his face and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Being a bagger, we're in charge of the bodies. We dispose of them, and their belongings, organize funerals, burry them, and write a record of everything that's happened."

"Nice," I tried to hide the gag, but it was near impossible. "Can we leave now?"

Veer chuckled, slapping me harder than I expected on my back as he moved past me.

"What else do you guys do?" I asked once the smell was gone and I could fully inhale again.

"Well, we're kind of like police," he explained, "We follow Alby's orders, take care of bodies, through people in the slammer if they're not behavin'."

"Like Marcus?"

"Like Marcus." He affirmed, stepping out of the foliage and into the extensive glade. "We also guard the doors and mark which runners go through which door. There's two baggers at each door, sometimes three, and we have to make sure each runner comes back 30 minutes before the doors close. If not, we fetch Alby."

"Has that ever happened before?" I asked, eyes fixed on him as we pace the cornfield.

He turned to me, deadpanned. And although I knew his answer, him saying "Plenty," Still sent shivers through me.

We were silent as we headed back to the doors. The other boy was still there, leaning against the glade walls, eyes closed.

"Peter, ya shank, no sleeping on the job." Veer scolded, wagging a finger at him.

"So who ran through these doors today?" I asked Veer "Minho and Newt."

My heartbeat stuttered, "Newt? Why Newt?"

Last time he went into the maze I watched him climb up the walls and jump in an attempt to kill himself. I just hope Minho was keeping a close eye on him. I trusted that he would, but I was still worried.

"Not too sure. Minho said he found some stuff when he first left for his run this morning. He came back for Newt an hour after the doors opened and they left together."

"Found what?" I pushed.

He gave me a roguish look, but then shook it off. "He didn't say. Top secret stuff, I guess."

My brain was working frantically, thinking of all the possible lethal entities in the maze. I knew WICKED, and I knew they liked to set traps. Maybe it was purely nothing, but I couldn't help but sit beside Veer and worry.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is so short! I'll try to update again way later today or tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed the fluff! Any ship names for the budding romance? Thanks ****for the follows and favourites, as well as the reviews from HarleyHolmes, Scarlett the Starlett, Mina Luriya, InvisibleSoul4, and KhAel.**


	7. A Gathering

Ow," I winced, seeing the small prick of blood pool on my finger after poking myself with a needle. Stitching myself a bra was harder then it looked.

"You're not very good at that," Chuck dissed, chuckling as he leaned his head back against the glade walls. We were still waiting on Newt and Minho, and the doors were closing in an hour. They would be back anytime now.

"You wanna try?" I sarcastically offered, arching a brow at Chuck.

Chuck shook his head. "Better behave Chuck, or I'll tell the other Sloppers you're slacking over here with Florence," Veer called from across the opening of the doors, playing some kind of game with his hands with the other Bagger.

Chuck just made a "pffft" noise, shaking his head from side to side, causing his brown curls to bounce.

I smiled, looking down at him, and ruffled his curls with my free hand.

He giggled. I wish Chuck would remember who I am, and all the memories we shared, but sadly Wicked committed the cruel act of erasing his memory. He was still the same boy I shared a room with for two years, the one that reminded me so much of my brother, the one that was like a brother to me.

The memorable skips of a certain boy's limping steps sounded beside me. Newt, followed by Minho, we're on a mission, for Alby probably. Neither of them spoke to us, whether that was because we went unnoticed or because they were questing for Alby, I was unsure.

Newt's brows pulled together as he passed me, a gust of air breezing by. "This still makes no bloody sense." Newt muttered, limping past a few gladers as he headed for homestead. Their conversation was out of reach now. I looked to Chuck, who shrugged in response to the eavesdropped conversation.

I went deadpan, pondering for a few seconds. What on earth did they find? I hopped up in my position and handed Chuck my half-made bra, "Here," I shoved it into his hands, not even giving him chance to object, "Knock yourself out."

I hiked after the boys, quickly catching up to them. They didn't even acknowledge my existence. Newt kept muttering something to himself, so I slapped Minho on the shoulder "Hey, what's going on?"

Minho's small eyes briefly flashed to mine as he worked on keeping his quick pace. "I found something,"  
I rolled my eyes, "No klunk, Sherlock."

"Who?" he raised a brow, looking ahead at Newt.

Right... They didn't understand references. I mentally facepalmed myself as I tried to keep up with their expeditive speed. "Nevermind," I shrugged off, "What'd you find?"

Newt, without warning, swivels around to face us, seizing his break-break-neck speed. "See for yourself"

I ran into him, lightly bumping our shoulders together, which earned a chuckle from Minho.

Instead of reacting to the encounter, he ignored it. His fingers dug into his shirt pocket for the object.

His shaky fingers unfolded a paper, and he handed it to me. He finally looked at me when he pulled it out, waiting for a reaction, but when I saw what was on the paper, I went numb. I had no reaction. I just felt paralyzed, like in my dream last night.

It was the picture that I had in my pocket, the one of me Teresa, and Thomas. Only, our faces were carved outs, scratching away any physical identity of the people in the picture. There was no way they would recognize me in it, but it still frightened me. I flipped the wrinkly, damp, photo over. Written in thick black ink, which was smudged slightly, were nine words.

**This is a warning: don't let them find out.**

Janson's writing, I knew it anywhere.

Newt waving a hand in front of my face, broke my trance. "What does it mean?" I questioned, handing it to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, pivoting, "Dunno, that's why I'm going to show Alby." he ambled toward the homestead, leaving Minho and I alone.

"You okay greenie?" he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Yeah," I breathed heavily, dropping my gaze to my feet.

"Okay..." he replied, unbelieving of my answer. He pointed a finger toward the homestead, "Knowing Alby, he'll probably call a gathering, so I should follow Newt."

"Yeah. Okay. Go," I waved him off.

He transformed into a light jog, following his friend.

I touched my pant leg, where the photo was in Newt's khakis.

A bumpy feeling manifested itself and I ran the pads of my fingers over it. Suddenly, it felt heavier in my pocket, carrying an unexpected weight that I did not comprehend.

* * *

The Gathering took about an hour. And although the structure of the homestead wasn't sufficiently structurally built, nor did it look pretty, it did block out any sound from within. Since I wasn't a keeper, I wasn't allowed in. I was sitting cross legged, pulling out clumps of old grass and making a pile with them, attempting to pass the time.

When the hoard of Keepers came pouring out, I scanned for Newt. He was one of the last to exit, still engrossed in conversation with Alby. After dismissing Alby, he handed him the photo, and then limped my way.

Just as he was about to speak, a familiar howl, which still freaked me out, emitted throughout the glade. A gust of wind blew inwards, along with a few dead leaves from the vines on the maze walls, and finally the maze doors started to close. I shielded my ears as the gravity-defying doors met seconds later, a loud boom echoing throughout the glade as concrete met concrete. The spikes inserted themselves into holes and all was silence.

Newt laughed at my innocence and my face went sour, which made him chuckle more. He placed his hands on his hips as he came to a full stop by my feet.

"Still scares the klunk out of me," I proclaimed, eyeing the doors.

He shot me a crooked smile.

"So how was the Gathering?" I asked as we started to leisure forward. "What happened? What did you talk about?"

"Slow down you eager beaver," He chuckled lightly, peering down at me as we walked. "What's a matter, couldn't hear through the walls?"

"No, actually," I huffed

Again, he laughed. "The Gathering was… something."

"Something?"

"Yeah," he declared, "We talked about you for most of it."

My face contorted, and I gave him a quizzical look. "Me? Why Me?"

We walked around the lookout tree, Newt swinging around it with one arm and meeting me on the other side.

"It was a long overdue gathering. Some of the gladers are freaked out. Everyone's confused as to why you popped up in the box, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the month, wearing pajamas that said 'WICKED' on them."

I licked my lips nervously, stepping over a log near the fight pit as we trotted towards the dining area. "Well I'm just as confused as everyone else."

"We know that," He replied, "We just thought up some theories about you, tried to get to the bottom of everything."

"What kind of theories?" I questioned.

"Gally suggested that maybe you were kidnapped, thrown in here against your will. Fry said that maybe you worked for them, volunteered to go in the maze. Will, keeper of the Sloppers, implied that you were possibly hiding something."

Anxiety flushed through me, but I tried my best to camouflage it. "I'm not hiding anything." I dejected. "If I remembered anything I'd tell you."

"I know, I trust you Florence." He followed with a warm smile, which warmed my heart. I was drowning in guilt, I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't, especially after that admonition.

"Minho propose that possibly the note was written to you."

"You think so?" I laughed nervously, averting my eyes from him.

"Or maybe it's nothing, maybe the Creators made a mistake, accidently sent up something they weren't supposed to."

"That's my best guess," I agreed, looking back to Newt.

"I'm not so sure…" He trailed off, now entering Fry's kitchen.

We lined up accordingly behind the row of gladers, awaiting our helping of beans and toast. When Newt and I received out food, we sat at our now routine table with Minho and Ben.

"What else happened?" I directed at no one in particular.

"Clint suggested to Alby that you should be a Med-Jack!" Minho answered, pointing his fork at me while his mouth was muffle with food.

"Really?" I asked, stirring my beans with my fork.

"Yeah, but Alby said you had to finish keeper training first," Ben added.

I groaned. "That's gonna take me like another week."

"Yup" Ben acknowledged.

I picked at my beans, slowly eating them. "What's tomorrow?"

"You're in luck," Minho smirked coyly, "You get to spend the whole day with me, girly."

"Great… I'm so excited…" I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

Newt chortled with laughter beside me, and I even earned a smile from Ben, while Minho gave me a cheeky glare.

"Be ready, bright and early." Minho authoritively dictated, standing up from his seat and walking over to one of the Sloppers who were washing dishes.

"Yes boss." I yelled over my shoulder.

He smirked, cocking a brow as he exited the dining area.

* * *

It was late, and trying to sneak out of the homestead silently was hard task, hopefully not impossible though.

I attempted to endeavor out undisturbed, but I failed miserably after falling out of the hammock.

Newt jerked awake, panicked after the loud noise I created. He inhaled stridently and shot up in his bed.

"Sorry…" I cringed, trying to slip my leg out of the hammock where it got stuck. I stood up, dusted myself off, and tiptoed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" He uttered huskily, fisting his eyes.

"To take a shower," I whispered back.

"At this time of night?" His voice cracked.

"Everyone's asleep," I explained, "No one will catch me showering at this time. Besides, I can't sleep anyways."

Newt let out a small moan, still fisting the sleep out of his eye, and then lazily stood erect.

"Newt, you don't have to come with me," I objected, "Just stay here."

He shook his head, blonde waves cascading everywhere, and opened the door for me. I shrugged it off, not wanting to argue with him, and tried to silently creep through the hallway and down the stairs.

Newt trailed behind me, barely audible, and followed me out the door. We meandered around the sleeping gladers, making it to the washrooms which were just a few yards away.

"I'll wait here," He proclaimed, yawning as he leaned his back against the wooden shack. I walked inside, cursing myself for not bringing a lantern, and felt around for the shower stalls.

It only took a few mintues for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, I stpped into a stall and stripped down.

It was a much-needed shower.

The metallic head that hung loosely above me sprayed warm water on my body. It rained down my skin, cleaning me. I could feel my muscles relax, knots in my back untie, and my calf muscles seized its painful cries.

The steam forming resembled thick fog, condensing around me.

After running my hand through my long hair, I sat down in the shower, taking the relaxation in. It was pleasing to finally feel clean. Honestly, this whole trial was just like one giant camping trip, which lasted a few years. It wasn't the most enjoyable feeling to be dirty all the time, but it was bearable.

I would've showered longer if it weren't for Newt lingering outside the wooden cabin, waiting for me.

After ten minutes, I turned the nozzle off and wrapped a towel I had grabbed from the homestead around my body. I dried myself to the best of my abilities and then slipped on Newt's shirt and the pajama pants I arrive in.

I wrapped the towel around my long, soaking wet hair, and did a little twist with it at the top, like most girls did with wet hair.

I exited the washrooms, tapping a fatigued Newt on the shoulder when I saw him. He went bug-eyed at my appearance. "What the bloody hell is on your head?"

I rolled my eyes, bumping his shoulder so we could start heading back. "I'm drying my hair, ya slinthead."

"Whatever," He smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

We took our time heading back, not rushing as we maneuvered around each sleeping glader again.

"You didn't have to come with me, you know." I told him.

"Yeah I bloody well did. I bet you a quarter of these shanks aren't actually sleeping. Don't want them pouncing on you like Marcus did." He countered with another yawn.

"Got my own personal body guard," I smiled.

"You shuckin' wish." He replied cheekily.

I smiled widely, flashing my dimples as I moved around a hammock with a slumbering glader, Chuck, I think. "Or maybe you just got a little crush on me." I added with a bashful wink.

"Again, you shuckin' wish," He averted his eyes from mine with an alluring smile.

We entered in the homestead, going silent as we reached closer and closer to our room.

'Our room'

That sounded so nice to say.

Newt flashed me a smile before he walked to the corner of the room and dived into the small sleeping bag.

I sat in the hammock, swung my legs over and curled into a ball, gently swinging my bed back and forth in a soothing action.

"Can I ask you something?" I suspended the silence.

"Shoot," Newt allowed.

"The other night, you said you had nightmares too, what were they about?"

He let out a long suffering sigh, but then rolled over to face me from his sleeping bag, and I gazed down at him.

"A lot of things. Most of the time it's me trapped in the maze, never finding a way out. I would run and run and run but it never seemed to end. I would hear screams from Minho, or Alby or…Nick…"

Nick was one of the first gladers, killed off within the first year. Janson had no anticipation on him surviving, so it wasn't a huge loss.

"They would scream my name, and I would hear that daunting noise of the grievers, but I could never find them. I also had other dreams where everyone's dead, and I'm the last person standing. A huge massacre caused by the grievers. I hate the idea of being alone, of feeling alone. I hate it. I hate being stuck here, I hate it all."

My mind flashed back to seeing Newt that day, watching him through the screen. It boggled my mind that Newt had felt so alone that he attempted to end his life.

I shut my eyes, trying to purge the daydream.

"What's wrong?" He inquisited, sensing my anguish.

He was watching me, eyes targeted directly at me. I gazed into his dark brown eyes. They had such an undefinable spark in them that still seemed to smolder even in the dim light. The vivid color had me fixed, and me grateful that I could see them in person and not through a screen now, despite the unwanted circumstances.

"You're not alone, Newt."

"I know."

* * *

**A/N: Please leave me a review and tell me what you think! Sorry things are kind of slow right now. This is a filler chapter, the next one will be better, and longer. I have a nice plan for this story, hopefully it follows through. Thanks for the previous review from FlowerChild23 and maaaacy.**


	8. Breathing

**Disclaimer: I am not James Dashner, and I do not own the maze runner, only Florence.**

* * *

In the middle of the night, I woke up screaming, yet again, due to the night terrors. I couldn't shake them off, and I was becoming an insomniac because of it. In a delirious state, I must have asked Newt to sleep in the hammock again, because when he was shaking me awake, his body right beside mine.

"Shuck off," I mumbled, trying to succumb to as much sleep as possible.

"Come on," He shoved my shoulder again, causing me to moan, "You've been here a week now, and Alby's gonna kill me when he finds out I haven't shown you yet."

Dawn was just approaching, and all the gladers were still asleep. Not even the runners would be awake yet.

He shoved my shoulder once more, and I lost my balance on my side and ended up flipping over. My body plummeted to the ground and I hit it with a heavy smack.

"Uhhhhh…" I groaned. Scrunching my face. My cheek was pressed against the cold surface of the wooden floor, and I made no attempt to move.

"Oh shuck!" Newt hopped off the hammock, diving under it, and aided to me. "Sorry, ah, Florence, are you alright?"

I nodded, my face roughly squishing against the coarse floor.

Newt hooked his arms underneath my armpits and tried to hoist me up. I used his strength to help myself up, and when I finally stood, I brushed myself off. I fisted my eye, trying to rid the sleep after that morning wake-up.

"I'm sorry, shuck... Is your face alright?"

He cupped his hand against the side of my face that fell against the wooden boards. His thumb grazed over my cheekbone, and my heart fluttered in response.

My bug-eyes met Newt's, and for a second, there was a spark of something, similar to a flame igniting. I wasn't exactly sure what it was, but there was something there that demonstrated us as more then friends. Sensing the awkward tension that quickly followed after, he dropped his hand and averted his eyes anywhere but mine.

I ineptly coughed and dropped my gaze from his.

"A-Are you alright?" He scuffed his foot against the floor.

"Yeah…" I gulped. "Yeah. Let's go." I opened the door, gesturing for him to go first.

He gave me a small nod, and stepped by me. I pursued after him. We exited homestead and I trailed with him.

He wandered towards the western wall, glancing back every so often to make sure I was following him. He beckoned for me to follow him through the deadheads. Hesitantly, I stepped forward, grimacing as we walked through the foliage.

We passed a small stream, and I even saw a mini-lake, seemingly deep enough to swim in. We made it to the wall, seeing the overgrown vines hang from it like some sort of possessive plant.

There was a large window, cube shaped. It was hard to see through it, since it was still condensed with dew. I rested my hand on the wall, gripping one of the vines as I leaned closer, peering through the window pane. Newt and I turned to each other, and he gave me a cheeky grin before looking back at the window.

I knew what he was showing me. It was a ritual they did with every greenie, usually on the first morning after they arrived.

"Just wait for it…" Newt muttered, sensing my impatience. His breath fogged up the glass, and I watched it as it dissipated.

I impatiently waited for five, ten, then fifteen minutes.

"Newt I—"

"There," He cut me off, pointing to the right.

The evocative whirring noise that came with every griever resonated moments later. I squished closer to Newt, looking down the right side of the maze hallway to get a better look.

My breathing delayed when I saw its gruesome form gliding down the hall. Its appendages aggressively clawed the cement floor, scraping against it, making an earsplitting headache desire to form. Its horrendous slug-like form left a trail of slime behind it, making me gag.

It glistened with goo, glimmering in the dim light as it walked by us. It hitched when it came closer to the window, moving its head side to side. This thing had a bazillion teeth. Small, but still lot of teeth. It's mouth formed on O-shape and its bottom jaw seemed to overpower the top. It black- beady eyes, scanned the area before continuing on.

It was so much more menacing and sadistic in person, and it blowed my mind that the people I used to work with created that monster, its only purpose to kill us.

I could feel Newt intently staring at my callow but terrifyingly astounded face.

"You alright there Florence?" He chuckled.

"Thanks Newt," I sarcastically thanked him, still wide eyed as I trudged away from him, back through the forest.

"For what?" He laughed, ambling after me.

"For giving m more nightmares then I already have."

He patted my back, "You'll live."

I rolled my eyes, "Barely."

We made it back through the forest, and when we came out the other side, the sun was brightly glimmering as it began to rise in the sky.

"Hey, she-greenie!"

"That's a new one!" I yelled back to Minho, who was slowly approaching.

"Ready?" He ignored my comment.

"Do I have to?" I made a face, slowing as we met face to face, "What if I'm a bad runner?"

He wiggled his eye brows up and down. "Guess we'll find out." He tossed me a pair of runners, old and tatty. Incredibly over worn. "Here, put these on."

I quickly slipped them on, and tossed my combat boots to Newt. "See ya Newtie patootie, don't miss me too much."

"Ugh, don't ever call me that again!" He hollered as Minho and I departed, shifting into a slight jog towards the North doors.

I snickered back at him, brushing the hair that curled around my face.

"Alright," Minho started as we stopped by the doors, along with another runner whose name I did not know. "I've got two bottles of water, two sandwiches, two apples, paper, and pens." He announced, diving into his small pack.

"Great, we're good to go."

"Looks like it," Minho replied at the same time the doors made a strident grinding noise blared right through the glade.

I cringed, still covering my ears at its thunderous noise, which made an unphased Minho chuckle.

Shifting into a sprint, Minho booked it down the first corridor. I was shocked at first, but quickly followed after him, along with the other runner. The other runner took a left when we met a fork, while Minho and I took a right.

"We're heading through section four today," Minho announced, but I could barely hear him through the wind that buzzed by my ears.

"Alright." I wheezed back, trying to keep up pace.

Minho was a fast runner, and extremely difficult to keep up with. To start with, I wasn't a very good runner anyways. I didn't exactly exceed in any physical activity…

Corridor down corridor, turn after turn, next thing I knew, a few hours had passed and it was mid day now.

Minho seemed to know the whole rout of the maze, not pausing once to figure out which way to go. Not once did he pull out his hand made map either.

"Seems like you know the maze pretty well," I hollered far behind him.

He spun around, running backwards now, "Too well," He declared before twirling back around.

I tried to concentrate on breathing steadily while we ran, but it was nearly impossible The track blurred beneath me, making my head spin, but I still pushed further. The steady thump of my footsteps echoed in my ears, matching the pace of my pounding heart. Sweat beaded my forehead, causing my hair to cling to it as my throat ached for air, more air. While running, I attempted to tie my hair up in a ponytail with a small elastic I found in the homestead.

It helped, cooling my body down. I honestly just wanted to collapse on the ground and never run again though.

"Alright greenie, time for a break." Minho turned down one last passage, and then pressed his back roughly against the maze walls, sliding his butt down. A few vines came with him, but he ignored it.

"Thank God," I wheezed, taking a sit beside him.

He passed me a sandwich, and I took it with pleasure. I felt like I hadn't eaten in days. I don't think I had ever endured in so much physical exertion, besides in my dreams.

"You alright there girly?" He cocked a brow, "You're panting pretty hard."

"Yeah… Just… Can't… Breath…" I managed to get out between breaths.

"Here," He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a jar of water, "Drink some water."

I snatched the jar out of his hands, unscrewed the lid, and took no time pressing the cool glass against my lips. It instantaneously quenched my thirsts, but refused to aid in my breathing patterns.

"I can't believe you do this every day." I puffed.

"Except Wednesdays," he winked.

"Yeah," I tried to exhale a laugh.

We ate our sandwiches in silent, wolfing them down in a matter of seconds. He tossed me an apple, which I almost didn't catch, and pulled one out for himself. There was a loud crunch when he took a bite out of his apple, which seemed to echo off the walls. It was so quiet, so weird.

"So the grievers only come out at night?" I asked.

"Usually. Although Gally's ran into one before, during the day."

"Really?" My eyes widened in fear for him. I wasn't aware that Gally was stung before. Probably my day off when that happened.

"Yup, shank got stung, barely lived." He enlightened me.

"Wow…" The guy may be a piece of klunk sometimes but I was glad he was alive. He gave character to the glade, which could have a negative aspect at times. Luckily, Gally liked me. I think…

Speaking of Gally, I had to spend the whole day with him tomorrow.

I'd rather be working in the sun, slaving away at making furniture and architectural stuff instead of preventing my lungs from breathing like I was now.

"So you and ol' Newty."

My eyebrows climbed up my face. "What about us?"

He smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I laughed, chewing my apple.

He rolled his eyes, still smiling. "Come on; don't tell me you don't see it."

"See what?" I honestly replied.

He gave me an 'are you serious?' look.

"What?" I asked, raising my voice.

"He follows you around like a lost puppy." His lips tightened into a tight line. "Don't get me wrong, it's adorable, but kind of desperate."

"Maybe he enjoys my company," I countered, taking another small bite of my apple.

"Enjoys it so much you two sleep in the same bed together?"

My jaw dropped, and I raised my thick brows. "How do you know that?!"

He gave me a maniacal grin, "I went to make sure you were awake this morning, and I saw Newt in the hammock with you. He woke up and saw me, and forced me not to tell Alby."

"Why'd he force you not to tell Alby?" I murmured between gnaws.

"I don't think Alby would be very happy if he found out…" He trailed off.

"Why do you say that?"

His lips curled over his teeth, and his eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to tell you this, but whatever. You know the runner that was with us when we left off this morning?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"His names Linc. He and another boy, Nick, used to be… well... for lack of better words... romantically involved with each other."

"And?" I pushed.

"Well Nick and Alby used to be best friends. Nick was the leader before he passed away. One day, Nick and Linc went running in the maze, long story short, Nick got stung and died, and Alby's blamed Linc ever since."

I gave him a confused, and almost irritated face. "But it wasn't his fault."

"Doesn't matter. Alby still blames him. Not that that's going to happen with you two, but I think it'd be best if you and Newt kept it on the down low."

I shook my head, "But there's nothing between Newt and I."

"You say that now—"

"There's nothing between Newt and I," I cut him off.

"Alright, alright." He raised his hands, pretending to surrender. "Jeez, greenie."

"Florence." I corrected him.

"Right," he agreed, standing up. "Alright, time to run back."

"Already?" I asked.

Minho looked down at his wrist. It was the first time I noticed he had a watch on, probably something WICKED sent up. "Doors close in four hours, we should make it back with plenty of time." He reached into his small pack and pulled out a notepad and paper. "You wannawrite down the way back?"

"Sure," I obliged, taking it from his hands.

I flipped back a few pages for reference. Minho literally just drew lines for every turn we made, occasionally wrote how long we had been running for if we hit a part of the maze which was one long, straight corridor.

The break was pleasant, and it gave me a chance to regain myself, but as soon as we started running again, my legs proceeded with their painful cries.

We ran for an hour, and then another hour, and close to the last hour of running back, I felt weak. So weak I couldn't even keep my hand steady when I tried to map out the turns we made on paper.

"Keep up, greenie." He ordered, being yards away from me now.

I started to slow down, and I was barely scraping by as we ran. "Minho…" I tried to breathe, but it came out crackly. "Slow down, please," I begged. Out of nowhere, a pang hit my chest, like a ghost had punched me. My airways tightened, and I could feel my throat closing. A layer of mucus coated itself around my trachea, and I coughed. I couldn't stop coughing. A fit of coughing overcame me and I couldn't breathe.

"Greenie?" Minho howled for me, still in operation ahead of me. He looked like a blurry shadow now, and the whole maze spun, along with him.

"Minho!" I tried to shout for him, but I couldn't find the air to.

My airways completely constricted, to the point of asphyxiation almost. I had a little airway, barely enough for me to breath, especially when I kept coughing.

I dropped the paper and pen, and collapsed to the ground.

I gasped deeply, trying to take in as much as possible, but it only made it worse. My vision was going blurry since an insufficient amount of oxygen couldn't make its way to my brain. I hadn't had an asthma attack since I was little, and I hadn't required an inhaler in forever, but now, will my vision blurred and black dot's spotted my peripheral, while I coughed my lungs out, inhaling the dust from the maze floor, I cursed myself.

The dust from the maze floor didn't aid my situation; in fact it made it shoddier.

I was on my hands and knees –Which were slipping— and I arched my back every time I inhaled between coughs.

"FLORENCE!" Minho was sprinting towards me now, faster than I had seen him run all day. Everytime I blinked, he was closer.

Blink, twenty feet away.

Blink, fifteen.

Blink, five.

And next thing I knew, he was picking me up marriage style, disregarding the paper and pen I had dropped, and sprinting back to the maze.

I tried to clench my fists, tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if gripping on to reality would keep me awake. "Just breathe, slowly, breathe in and out." He screamed at me, more panicked then I was. His eyes were filled with worry and panic. They glanced down to me, then looked ahead. He almost dropped me after taking a sharp left down one corridor.

I fisted his shirt harder, wheezing and coughing still. "I... Can't... Breathe…" I tried to explain.

"I know…" He panted. "Shuck, why do we have to be so far from the shucking maze!" He screamed in angst. "Just hang in there," he ordered.

I tried my best too, but we were still so far from the doors, and with each passing second my breathing became more rapid, and my chest got tighter.

"Just relax, Florence, focus on your breathing."

I felt like trying to calm him down, since he was so worked up and so freaked out. He had tears in his eyes, whether that was because I was facing death right now or because he was running so fast was unknown. All the pressure was on him, and I was glad I was with him in the maze, he was the fastest runner. "That's… The first… Time... Y-You've said… My name…" I tried to laugh between puffs, but I was too weak. Only a single 'ha' came out.

A slow smile started to form on his face, and he looked down and laughed.

I was clinging so tightly to him, fearful of him dropping me and petrified that I was going to faint and never wake up.

Worrying made me more anxious. I coughed more, trying to get rid of the mucus that coated my throat, but it didn't help. As soon as I started to cough, I couldn't stop.

I puffed, and felt dizzy from the exertion of trying to breath air. The pain in my chest worsened, and I could feel myself fading slowly.

I was going to die, and in the most stupid way possible. Not being stung by a griever, not by cutting a limb off after working hard as a slicer, not by sacrificing myself for someone, I was going to die from a freaking asthma attack after running a day in the maze. Embarassing.

"HELP, SOMEONE HELP!" Minho yelled as soon as we set foot in the glade. He ran across the whole glade, repeating the same words over and ever, occasionally calling for Clint and Jeff. "SOMEONE GET NEWT,"

We stumbled ungracefully into the med-hut where Jeff was organizing cabinets.

"What's wrong?!" He shot up from his seat.

"I think she's having an asthma attack!" Minho breathed.

"Set her on the bed," Jeff pointed to the uncomfortable look gurney, and Minho dropped me onto it.

"What the bloody hell is happening?!" Newt burst into Med-Hut, along with Veer, and other gladers who tried to push themselves.

"Everybody out!" Veer ordered, trying to shut the door.

I audibly breathed in and out, aggressively panting. My tight shirt, which was constricted around my chest, seemed to elaborate the feeling of not being able to catch a breath. "I can't… My shirt… It's tight…" I clawed the collar of my shirt, wanting to rip it off.

"What's happening?!" Newt repeated.

"She's having an asthma attack!" Minho yelled a little too loudly back at him. His aggressive tone seemed to help set in the severity of the situation. I was literally seconds away from death right now.

"I'll be right back, Newt, take off her shirt. Take off anything that's constricting her chest. Veer, go find Clint." Jeff wandered into the back of the Med-Jack hut, searching for something. Newt threw his hands up in response, but then moved around the gurney. Minho was on one side, eagerly awaiting Jeff's return, while Newt was on my other side.

"Sit up, just for a second." He used his hands to help me sit up, and then peeled my shirt off. Luckily I had the bra on that Chuck and I tried to make the other day. "Jeff hurry the shuck up!" Newt loudly called out. "Okay, lie down, on your side." He ordered, pushing me back down.

I obliged, curling into a fetal position, bursting into another coughing fit. Newt's hand remained on my bare back, unmoving. It was scolding against my hypothermic back.

"No!" Clint burst through the door, Veer following closely behind, "Sit her up, if she bends over it constricts her breathing more." Clint harshly placed his hands on my arms and forced me upwards. It felt a bit better, but still thorny to breathe. "Where's Jeff?"

"Over there" Minho pointed to the back of the hut.

"I can't find it!" Jeff yelled in frustration.

"Keep telling her to take deep, long breaths, make her calm." He told Newt "Don't stress her out or it could be the difference between life and death for her." He haunted us before running to find Jeff.

I gripped the side of the gurney while Newt rubbed my cold back.

"Sit up straighter," Minho instructed.

I did what he said, straightening my back. My breathing was still wheezy, and a low whistle resonated from my throat through the small airway.

"Jeff! Clint! Get the shuck over here," Newt aggressively yelled at them, his tone sterner then I've ever heard. My breathing was shallow now, and I felt dizzy. The black dots came back, starting to overflow my vision. I lost all balance and started to fall sideways. "Woah woah!" Newt said, holding me up. "Florence, stay awake."

"Not enough oxygen is getting to her brain," Clint explained, "Jeff hurry up, we need to find it."

My eyelids fluttered, and I rested my head between the crook of Newt's head and shoulder. "I'm tired…" I breathed, my voice cracking from the mucus. I could hear his heartbeat, fast but steady.

"What? No. Florence. Stay awake. You have to stay awake."

He tried to straighten my body to the best of his abilities but failed miserably.

"FOUND IT!"

The black dots mostly clouded my vision, only a small circle of focus still there, like I was looking through a small telescope.

"Hurry!" Minho screamed, sitting up from his chair as he aided to me, attempting to straighten my back with Newt.

My line of focus got smaller and smaller, but I could still see the small oxygen tank and breathing mask Jeff lugged towards me.

"You don't have an inhaler or something?" Minho asked.

"This is all we got," Clint explained, budging past Minho. He placed the tank beside the gurney, causing a loud thud, and put the mask to my face. They loosened a nozzle and the air released from the tank.

The first breath of air felt cold. The next one made the black dots go away, and the one after that relaxed me.

I could breathe again.

Not on my own, but it was a start. Newt took the elastic band that was hanging from the mask, and wrapped it around my head, pulling it over my wild hair. I collapsed on the bed, shutting my eyes as I focused on breathing. It became more routine, and wasn't as shallow anymore. I curled into a fetal position, facing Minho. Probably wasn't a healthy position, but it was comfortable, and it was the warmest position. I touched his hand which was on the gurney. "Thank you," I muttered through the mask, removing my hand from his as I closed my eyes again.

"Oh God… She's alive. She's alive? Is she alive?" Was all Minho said.

"She looks alive," I heard Newt say from behind me.

"She's alive." Veer pointed out.

I tried to nod, but I felt so tired and fatigued.

"She'll be fine," Jeff made a waving motion with his hands, "Now everyone get out. We don't want to overwhelm her. Let her sleep."

Veer 'aww'ed at the same time Minho huffed.

I heard footsteps, and opened my eyes quickly to see Clint, Minho, and Veer leave. It seemed Newt made no effort to move.

The mask was long enough for me to turn over and face him.

His expression was deadpanned and unreadable.

I blinked at him.

I removed the mask from my face for a second, which caused a hissing noise to emit from it. "Can you grab me a blanket?"

He nodded, sitting up from his seat.

I put the mask back on, seizing the painful pang in my chest that tried to escape.

Newt laid the blanket on top of my bare torso, and tucked it underneath my feet before sitting down. I was surprised Jeff didn't kick him out, but he was second in command after all. I was even more surprised when Jeff said "I'll be right back," And left us alone in the Med-Jack hut.

I moved the mask from my face again so I could talk. "Why aren't you leaving?"

"I'm not leaving you alone," He replied. "Something could happen to you."

"Jeff will be back soon," I countered.

"Yes, but until then, I'll watch you." He shifted in his seat, pulling it closer to me.

"My own personal body guard," I smiled, quoting the other day.

He chuckled, and cupped his hands over mine, which were on my face. His warm hands forced my cold hands to move the mask back over my mouth. "Stop talking."

I rolled my eyes comically, giving him a smile.

"Sleep." He ordered.

I huffed a small laugh, causing the mask to condensate. "Yes boss."

"Sleep," He repeated, forcing my eyelids shut with his right hand.

I smiled; glad he wasn't leaving me alone.

I admit, I wanted to sleep, but the experience of talking to Newt overpowered that feeling, but it was clear he didn't want me to talk to him, for my own benefit, of course. "I can't sleep," I tried to tell him through the mask, opening my eyes again.

"Sleep," He emphasized, forcing my eyelids close again.

I was about to object, until I felt the soothing gesture of his hands running through my long hair.

His hands brushed so gracefully through them, causing me to be fatigued in an instant. I made no effort to open my eyes again, and I was relishing in this amazing moment, but I wasn't quite ready to sleep. I didn't want him to stop the amazing feeling, and if I opened my eyes he would immediately.

The hair stroking continued for the next few minutes.

I didn't perk up when I heard Jeff re-enter the hut.

"Where'd you go?" Newt asked, still brushing my hair, but more discretely now that another glader was here. My heart fluttered at the gesture, and my heartbeat sped up, causing me to breathe a little faster.

"To tell Alby."

"What'd he say?"

"He said he wants someone to watch over her 24/7, and he doesn't want her training until she feels ready to."

"Hmm." Newt responded.

"She asleep?"

Newt must have turned his head towards me because his voice was louder and closer now. "I think so."

I wasn't, but I made no effort to tell them that.

"I can stay here if you want, Jeff." Newt offered, "I mean, if you want me too. You probably have other stuff to do, so I can stay here. I don't mind."

"You don't?"

"Nope,"

"Alright, because Zart was actually wondering if I could help him pick tomatoes, Fry wants them for spaghetti tonight."

"Go for it," Newt pushed.

"Thanks, Newt. If you something happens, just holler."

"Will do."

I heard the door close, and then all was silent but the noisy, whistling noise of the tank and my working lungs.

I got more and more tired, until I was seconds away from losing consciousness. Just as I was about to face oblivion, I felt two soft, warm, lips press themselves on the middle of my forehead.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter, I particularly liked writing it. Thanks for the reviews from SeleneM, Scarlett, Ermegerd Werds, Harley Holmes, softball007, and InvisibleSOul4. Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter :)**


	9. Newt and Gally and Minho, oh my!

**IM SORRY IN ADVANCE THAT THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT. I will make it up to you by posting again tomorrow or the next day. This was a filler, so not that great of a chapter.**

* * *

I didn't have a nightmare, but I did have a dream about Thomas again. Most of it was fuzzy now, but I remembered running, and that's all I could recall. It was hard to distinguish whether we were running from someone or to something.

I found it odd, the repetitive dreams I had of Thomas. Why was he always in them? Was WICKED trying to make me have a connection with him? Tell me something? It was possible they were studying my brain patters, but did they have access to my brain to manipulate it?

"You're awake,"

I turned to Newt, who was fisting his eyes.

The tank had stopped hissing, although I had grown accustomed to the noise. The only sound was Newt's heavy breathing and the squeak of his chair as he pulled himself closer to me.

I nodded.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I croaked, my throat aching from yesterday's events.

"Fine enough to be a builder for a day?"

I graoned, sitting up in the gurney. "Maybe Gally will go easy on me."

Newt licked his lips, "Doubt it."

I shrugged, looking out the small window of the hut. Daylight had long been exposed, breakfast would soon be over, but hopefully Fry would leave some food for Newt and I.

"You didn't have to stay all night, you know. I would have been perfectly fine." I told him, with a crooked smirk as I took the mask off my head.

"Better safe than sorry,"

"Or maybe you just missed me and didn't want to go back to your room all alone without me," I tried to send him a sly wink as I swung my legs over the gurney, stretching my limbs out.

"You like to assume things a lot."

I shrugged, hopping off the bed and stretching my toes out against the cold floor board "I do what I want."

He chuckled, standing up and moving around the bed towards me.

I picked up my shirt from the floor, huffing as I pulled the opening over my head and readjusting it around my hips.

We were silent as we walked out of the Med-jack hut and ambled towards Fry's kitchen. He said nothing as we sat down, being the last people to eat in the entire glade.

"Are you alright?" I asked, after minutes of silence of nibbling our pancakes.

My eyes narrowed at him as he perked up in his sight. "I'm fine," he replied between bites, "Why?"

"Just fine?" I asked, placing my chin on top of my hands as I examined his face, in search of any emotion.

His downcast eyes fell placidly to the floor. "Yeah. Why?"

"You're quiet," I observed, still scrutinizing his face with my eyes.

He shrugged nonchalantly and stood from the bench. He dumped his plate in the dishwasher, where Chuck was rinsing, and stalked off towards the homestead. "I'll see you at dinner."

"What the shuck was that?" Fry seethed.

"Don't ask me," I shrugged, swallowing the last mouthful of pancakes as I dumped m y dish into Chuck's sink.

Chuck game me a gentle smile, which I returned before approaching Gally and his crew of builders.

* * *

An uneasy feeling settled uncomfortably in the pit my stomach as I hammered the last nail on a wooden chair. I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt, yearning for another shower. That was the end of my shift, which meant the last time I'd ever be a builder or working with Gally, which I was incredibly thankful for.

"Hey Greenie—" I heard his husky voice from behind.

"Florence," I corrected.

"Yeah whatever," he dismissed, "Done yet?"

"Yep." I stood up from the square patch of pavement (That they called the Builder's corner) and brushed off my pant legs, which had acquired red and white paint splotches from labeling a few storage crates earlier.

"Good," Gally roughly patted my back, pushing me forward to walk, "Now when Alby asks you what job you want," he stopped us walking, grabbing my wrist. He placed his fist in my hand. "—Tell him any job, just don't tell him you want to be a builder."

At first, I was bewildered, but then I was just offended.

His fist opened up and he dropped a handful of hard candy in my hand. There were all sorts of flavors, strawberry, banana, raspberry, cherry, blueberry, grape, apple.

"Where did you get these?" MY voice got higher in pitch.

"My stash, I've been saving them since the last crate of candy we received."

I glared at him, but not before shoving the candies in my pocket and crossing my arms over my chest. I flipped my hair over my shoulder and raised a brow, "You're bribing me not to work with you?"

"Boy, you sure are smart," He replied with sass, patting my shoulder before checking past me.

"Wait!" I grabbed a hold on his bicep. "Am I really that bad?"

"Uhhh…" He scratched his head. His anular eyebrows drew together, and he looked past me, clearly focusing on something behind me.

I turned my gaze to copy his, my hand dropping from his arm.

After seeing nothing, I looked back to Gally, who was literally fast-walking as far away from me as possible.

I grumbled, kicking a foot against the grass.

"What'd the grass ever do to you?" Newt didn't stop to talk, just passed by with a cheeky comment.

"Hey!" I hollered, "Hey, wait." I trotted hastily over to him, matching his pace. "Where have you been all day? You've kind of been MIA all day."

The corners of his lips moved in opposite directions. "MIA?"

"Missing in action, it's a— never mind…" I shook my head, "Anyways where were you?"

He slowed to a plodding pace and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I was with Alby all day, like I usually am. Why?"

I was kind of stunned by his negative tone, one he had never used on me, or anyone besides Marcus for that matter. "Just wondering, I don't know. Usually you pop by and say hello or… err— something."

"Well I was busy," He argued.

"Okay…" I scratched my head, completely marveled at his attitude. "With what?"

"Just some stuff," He brushed me off. "Talked about the photo."

"And?" I asked, trying to engage him in conversation. He slowed to a stop, turning to me.

"Nothing, really. Just discussed who's in the photo, what the warning was." He scratched his forearm, his eyes still not meeting mine.

"Hmm," I nodded, for once, not knowing what else to say to Newt.

"Yeah," he gaited away from me, on a mission. Or maybe he was avoiding me.

I turned my palms over, facing them towards the sky as I sighed. "Did I do something?" I called over to him.

He spun around, slowing his walk again. "No, it's just— uh…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes before walking in the other direction. "I'll talk to you later Florence." He coldly ostracized me.

I frowned, trudging towards Fry's kitchen where the decedent smell of fries and chicken filled my nostrils.

Just as I passed the lookout tree, someone entitled my name.

To my dismay, it wasn't Newt.

Minho came sprinting, through the East Doors it seemed, and his heavy footsteps hit the grass with deep thuds.

"Finally," I sighed happily, "Someone who wants to talk to me,"

"Woah," He slowed to a walk, waving his hands infront of his face, "I wouldn't go that far."

I rolled my eyes, whacking him in the chest as we strolled towards the Dining area.

"How you feeing?" He asked, genuinely concerned.

"Am I okay?" I asked, overly astounded. "Are you okay?! Minho. Sassy, slinthead, carefree Minho actually caring about someone. That's new."

"Cut the klunk," He frowned, although a small smile crept onto his lips. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I laughed, "Much better now. I guess I owe you, eh?"

"Shuck yeah you do. I saved your life, shuck face." His blithe attitude was comical; most of the time, anyways.

I dipped my hands into my pocket, pulling out two candies that Gally had just bribed me with. "Will these suffice?"

He took the grape and the green apple, luckily my least favorites, and his jaw went slack. "How in griever's hell did you get that?"

I shrugged, smirking coyly, "I have my ways."

"Well," He scoffed, popping the grape one in his mouth. "I like your ways."

I giggled. "In all seriousness though, thank you, Minho. I would be rotting in a grave if it weren't for you right now."

"Maybe I should have left you, that way I wouldn't have to hear your terrible jokes." He folded his arms across his chest.

"Minho!" I whined, scornfully glaring at the Asian boy. "Trying to have a heartfelt conversation here. You're ruining it, per usual."

His jaw dropped, and he shook his head, chuckling.

"Now let me finish. Thanks for saving my life. I'm grateful it was you there, mostly because you're the fastest runner, but still thanks."

He laughed through his nostrils, arms still crossed. "Is that the best thanks I'm gonna get?"

"Pretty much," I shrugged.

"I'll take it," he laughed, unfolding his arms and moving in for an embrace.

I reached up to wrap my arms around his tall frame, standing on my tiptoes to do so. I peered over Minho's shoulder, seeing Newt dolefully stride past his, his gloomy face targeted at our embrace.

I unlatched myself from Minho, and we both watch as he despondently wandered away from us, appearing to be skipping dinner.

"What's with that shuck-face?" Minho pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

"Beat's me," I shrugged. Newt's opaque mindset had been unusual since the moment we woke up.

Minho and I slowly strolled towards the food, still pondering over Newt.

"I've known Newt for two years… Well I guess, considering I have no memories, I've known newt my whole life, and he's hardly ever like that."

_"Hardly?_" I gifted him a quizzical stare.

Minho's tongue slid across his bottom lip as he joined the line for food, "Yeah…" he replied, not fully following up to the answer I was searching for.

"Think he's okay?" I asked, taking fries from a scolding pan.

Instead of replying with the answer I expected, he responded with a sentence that made me uneasy. "I hope so."

* * *

"Newt," I whispered in the dark, knowing the boy was still awake from his unstable breathing. "Newt, I know you're not asleep."

"What?" He seethed, rolling over half of his body to turn to me.

"I can't sleep."

He cleared his throat, ignoring my silent plea for him to join me in the hammock. "What's wrong with you?" I frowned.

"_Everything,_" I thought I heard him whisper, but it was too low to catch.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." He callously discharged. "I want to sleep."

"What the shuck…" I whispered; low enough that hopefully he wouldn't hear. I sighed, rolling over so I didn't have to face him. I had a feeling this was going to be a **long** night.

* * *

**A/N: THIS SUCKS IM SORRY. I told you it would suck. Anyways, any idea why Newt has been a glum chum in this chapter? Thanks for the reviews from Sip11, Guest, Boggedgalexy, Guest, Scarlett, HarleyHolmes,Ajay131, Steggy4ever, Ashl3yra, SelenaM, Antisocialashyy, Pinkypie402, softball007, and InvisibleSoul4.**

**I had the most reviews and feedback for the last chapter, which makes me ecstatic! Please leave me more and tell me what you want to see :)**

**Also: Boggedgalexy requested a scene between Newt and Minho which Florence overhears. Care to elaborate? Great idea!**


	10. History Repeats

**Warning: Some depressive triggers in this chapter. Also: Just a note, if any of you ever need to talk, I'm always up for it :)**

**A reminder, I do not own the maze runner. Nor do I own any of it's characters. Only Florence.**

* * *

Both of us for awake until around two or three in the morning. Newt dozed off around then, but he tossed and turned, and sighed for hours previously. I just wanted him to open up and talk to me, but the more I pushed him to do that, the more he would shy away, which is the exact opposite of what I wanted.

He woke up shortly after the doors open. He knew I was awake; I hadn't got a fraction of shut eye the whole night. Without saying a word, he exited the room. I never heard him leave the homestead, so he was in someone else's room. Most likely Alby's.

After grabbing a bite to eat, while sitting with a lonesome Chuck, I joined Chuck in being a Slopper for the day.

It was an easy job, but not pleasant. You basically did everything that nobody wanted to do. Washed clothes in the quarry, washed dishes and cleaned for Fry, sanitized the washrooms, and endless other stuff. It was nice getting to know Chuck for the day. Towards dusk, while washing some clothes in the small stream, Chuck opened up to me about his theories of the glade.

"We had to be sent here for a reason, right?" He licked his lips, shaking the curly hair out of his face, "I mean, why else would we be here?"

He hung a wet t-shirt on a line that was strung from the runner's hut to one of the trees, then rejoined me in washing more clothes. He dipped a pair of dark khakis in the water, letting the water soak in every fiber. "Maybe this is all a simulation, like none of it is all real and you're all just part of some made-up computer nonsense. Maybe I'm being tested on and you're just some random computer mock-up which is supposed to push me in the right direction."

"Right direction for what?" I asked, smiling at the boy that reminded me so much of my brother.

"Who knows?!" He threw his hands up in the air, "Who the shuck knows, Florence."

I chuckled.

"Or is that even your real name?"

"Huh?" I dropped the shirt I was holding.

"Maybe its _Simulation a12 _or something."

I couldn't help but laugh at his far-off theory. If only he knew. I grabbed another shirt from the bucket of clothes, hanging one of the sweaty old v-necks one of the runners wore on the line of wet clothes.

I let the fabric softly graze my hands, and I looked down at the shirt, frowning. It was Newt's. I hadn't seen him since this morning, nor had Chuck. Something was seriously up with him, and I was beginning to get worried.

* * *

A few days passed, and Newt's odd behavior continued and expanded. He wouldn't talk to me, or anyone. The only person who did talk to him was Alby, and when I confronted Alby about it, he refused to spill the beans.

"_You're telling me…" I started in disbelief, "You haven't noticed anything odd about Newt's behavior?"_

_He shook his head, "Not remotely, no. Why?"_

_I shrugged, "I don't know, you're his best friend. I thought you would be the first to notice."_

_Alby chuckled, leaning against the outside wall of the homestead. "I think that friendship status has been revoked."_

_"Why do you say that?" I scratched the side of my face, just under my right eye._

_"Seems lately he's been attached to the only she-bean in the glade," I made a face at the name Minho previously called me. It seemed to be catching on._

_"Really?" I licked my chapped lips, "There must be another girl in the glade then, because Newt has spoken a word to me in four days."_

_"But you room together…" Alby's brows furrowed together. _

_"Thanks for that vital information, Alby. I wasn't aware."_

_He rolled his eyes, "You've been hanging around Minho too much."_

_"Well maybe if you tell me what's going on with Newt, I wouldn't have too," I challenged, crossing my arms over my chest._

_He sighed. "Well Newt hasn't said anything to me. And if he does, you'll be the first to know."_

_I nodded, not fully content with this conversation. Just as I was about to stalk off, I pivoted back to a startled Alby, who was no longer leaning against the unsteady building. "Aren't you worried?"_

_"Why would I be worried?" he countered._

_"Well…" I ran my thumbnail along my bottom lip. "Newt has a depressive history. Shouldn't that be taken into account for?"_

_His eyes narrowed in perplexity, "First of all, how do you know that?"_

_"Minho," I lied through gritted teeth._

_"You two are terrible influences in each other," He shook his head, muttering "Sarcastic shucks," under his breath. "Now secondly, what's it to you, shank?"_

_"I'm worried about him," I confessed, rubbing my forearm. "He hasn't spoken to anyone besides you. His eating habits have completely dissipated. Fry's only seen him in the kitchen twice since Thursday; which means two meals in four days. He looked like he hasn't slept in years. He's a walking corpse—"_

_"You're one to talk," Alby pointed out, poking my cheek._

_"We'll talk about that later," I dismissed, not wanting to talk about the nightmares and the insomnia. I continued my rant, "His limp seems to be playing up more, and he's ignoring everyone. I don't know Newt as well as you guys do, but I know him better then you think." I revealed, trying to drown the guilt that was attempting to resurface._

_"Well I'll try to talk to him, but even if I did, nothing would change." He stated._

_"Why do you say that?" _

_Alby shrugged, "Newt doesn't listen, to anyone really. This has happened before, and the last time it did Minho found him near-dead in the maze."_

_A fluttery feeling manifested itself inside of me as my heart started to pound. "That doesn't worry you?"_

_"Of course it does."_

_"You're the leader Alby, can't you do something?" I pushed._

_"Florence, he's my best friend, but there's nothing else I can do but keep an eye on him." He shrugged, his defeated face falling to the floor as he walked away from me, a certain gloominess clinging to his body._

I scratched my head as I sat at the dinner table with Clint and Jeff, thinking back to the conversation with Alby.

"Florence!" Someone yelled, trying to grab my attention.

"Hmm?" I perked up, churning my head towards Clint.

"I said: Aren't you excited for training tomorrow?"

I moved my spoon around in my bowl of stew, cupping a face underneath my jaw. "Training for what?"

"Being a Med-Jack. It's your job try out tomorrow." Clint frowned, annoyance lucid on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" I pointed to myself, trying not to space out again.

"Yeah, you," Jeff added, "We're the only ones in here."

"Shuck, you're starting to act like Newt."

Ugh. Newt. Just hearing his name made my heart shatter into a million pieces.

* * *

I climbed into the hammock, eagerly awaiting Newt who wasn't back in time for bed. Alby had announced lights out over half an hour ago, and everyone was just starting to sleep, so where was Newt?

Another half hour later, Newt crept into our room, the floorboards squeaking underneath him as he tiptoed around the hammock.

I was unsure if I should announce whether or not I was awake, but when he started to take off his shirt, I knew it was too late to say something.

He peeled off the thin hoodie from his torso, and the moonlight illuminated his pale skin.

My breathing hitched when I saw him turn towards me. There were scars on his hips. Deep, pink, scars. The worst part? I saw two fresh ones right above the hip, unmistakably self-inflicted. I tried to close my eyes, refusing to let the tears escape, but it seemed near impossible.

Newt changed into a deep, maroon colored v-neck before walking over to his sleeping bag. I would have said something if it weren't for the deep, purple bags I saw underneath his eyes. He fell asleep in an instant, and I was left silently crying in the dark, wanting Newt to comfort me. Or better yet, him allow me to console him.

* * *

After another restless/sleepless night, I crept up from the hammock, stretching my limbs out. I hated being alone with my thoughts all night, and this whole 'no-sleep' thing was starting to take a toll on me, but I physically couldn't force myself sleep due to the nightmares. Some of my worst terrors were now becoming a reality, and one of them happened to be the boy I was rooming with. After breakfast with Ben and Minho, I took my time walking over to the Med-Jack hut, work not starting for another fifteen minutes.

I had that feeling in my chest… The same feeling I had the night before I got taken into the maze, the night Aris told me everything would be fine. Something wasn't right.

"Woah, you look like you died,"

I started to whip around but someone bumped me in the shoulder before I could turn to them.

"Couldn't be more blunt, could ya?" I asked with a small eye roll.

Minho shot me a toothy grin, "Nope," He replied, spinning around, continuing to work towards the North doors.

"He's right, you do look bloody tired."

My eyes widened as I watched Newt come into view, following Minho.

My jaw dropped.

"What?" He asked, a pallid expression on his face as he walked backwards away from me.

I wanted to say a lot of things. I wanted to comment on why he was ignoring me, or everyone for that matter. I wanted to know what was wrong, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to confront him about the cuts, fresh and scarred, and I wanted to hug him.

Instead, all my jumbled mind could come up with was unwarranted stutters. I felt like I was dyslexic and I had a speech impediment.

"Well?" he asked. "I don't got all bloody day. Minho and I have work to do." He commented, still walking backwards.

"Wait," I slowly jogged towards him, walking beside him as he turned to face the doors again. I bumped him in the shoulder, which caused him to shy away from me, like I had the plague or some other deadly disease. "Where are you going? What work?"

"Ben called in sick for the day, thought you'd know since you're a med-jack today. I offered to cover his shift."

"What?" I frowned, "But your leg. How are you supposed to cover any ground if you're limping the whole time? I've seen you walk and I know it's getting worse."

"Aw, worried about me, are ya?"

I shook my head disapprovingly as I tossed a piece of hair aside. "I just don't think you should go in the maze. It's not a good idea."

"Florence, I have a job, and you have yours. Just stay out of it and let me run the buggin' maze."

I sent him a dirty scowl. "I'm just trying to look out for you Newt, trying to keep you safe." Just as we were nearing Minho, I stepped in front of Newt, pushing a hand on his chest. His expression was dispassionate, and he avoided all eye contact with me, but that didn't stop me from moving my body closer to his. "Hey shuck-face." I growled, "Listen to me."

His downcast eyes remained on the uninteresting grass, and I patted his chest where my hand was.

"Please, Newt. I have a bad feeling about this."

His eyes finally fixed onto mine, and they were gloomy and glazed, not filled with life and color like they usually were. "You think I'll ditch these shanks just because you '_have a bad feeling' ?" _he finger quoted.

"Newt, please," I started to beg.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, attempting to move around me. "Step aside, greenie."

Ouch.

My jaw went slack, and I just went numb as I watched Newt amble away from. He joined Minho, and they walked side by side to the doors, which were opening with their usual thunderous resonation.

He took one last, quick glance back at me, and I caught a small glimpse of guilt on his face, but it quickly vanished as is head revolved back and he disappeared from my view.

* * *

"How you feeling Ben?" I called over my shoulder.

He coughed, "Fine. My throat's a little sore, and my head hurts."

"Hmm," I looked through the cabinet of supplies, seeing all the different types of medication and pre-made remedies.

"Jeff gave me something earlier."

"I know," I accredited, "I'm just going to give you something to help with your throat."

"Oh," He burst into a coughing fit again, making me cringe.

"I'll be right back," I told him, exiting the med-jack hut after he nodded in acknowledgment. I shifted into a light jog as I got closer to Fry's kitchen, and knocked on the side door of the half-open concept area.

"What?" Fry asked, leaning his body against the door frame after he opened it, blocking any trespassers.

"Hello to you to, Fry. How's your day? Mine's going swell."

Fry scowled at me, shaking his head. "I'm busy, cooking. What do you want?"

"I was just wondering if I could borrow some honey and lemons." I bargained with him, kicking my foot against the grass.

"What on earth do you need that for?"

"Ben. I think he's got strep throat. Hot lemon water with honey helps soothe the throat and simmer the swelling."

Frypan bit his lip, contemplating. "Fine," he gave in, gesturing for me to move past him. "But only because this is for medical reasons. Don't come prancing around in my kitchen whenever ya feel like it."

"Yes boss," I chuckled, sliding past him.

I ran to the fridge, which looked more like a large cooler. Luckily WICKED had sent up some sort of generator so the fridge could run on electricity. There was only one in the whole glade, and it was in Fry's kitchen, which was obviously the best place for it.

I opened the fridge, scanning it with my eyes for the color yellow. I spotted the lemon in the back of the fridge, and dug deep to pull it out.

After chopping the lemon into small slices, I opened up Fry's pantry. I grabbed the honey, which was close to the front this time, and took my ingredients to the stove. One of the cooks handed me a pot, and I set it on the stove (Which was also connected to the generator) and turned on medium-high heat. I filled the pot with water, and when the water stated to bubble, I added the lemon slices. After stirring for a minute, I added a teaspoon of honey.

After perfecting the drink, I poured it into a large jar. I replaced the ingredients to their rightful home, said a quick thanks to Fry and his cooks, and exited the kitchen, praying I would never have to enter it again. The stressful tension in that room was palpable. I did cook training yesterday and it was tough. Frypan had rules and if you didn't follow them, well… let's just say he wasn't happy.

I burst into the Med-hut, where Jeff and Alby were now, and turned to Ben. "Here, drink this. It'll help with your throat."

"Thanks," He smiled, sitting up in the gurney.

"Well," Alby let out a long sigh, "After talking about it with Jeff, I've decided that you can be a Med-Jack. It seems you know your way with helping people, and we could use another person in case of emergencies. Two is just not enough. So what do you say?"

"Yes!" I practically interrupted him, "Yes, please, yes. I would love to be a med-jack."

Alby chuckled, and Jeff slow-clapped.

"It's decided then. You're a med-jack." He smiled, giving me a pat on the back. "Congratulations," he congratulated before exiting the shack.

"Wahoo!" I cheered, high-fiving a laughing Jeff. "Thanks for putting in a good word with the big guy," I smiled.

"No biggie," He chuckled, turning back to Ben, who was obnoxiously slurping the hot liquid. "I've got it from here. Your shifts ending early today but be ready bright and early tomorrow after breakfast, no tardiness."

"Thanks Jeff," I flashed him a wide grin, showing him my dimples. I waved goodbye to a sick Ben, and exited the hut.

The sun spread across the surface of the glade like a giant warm wave. The warmth of it on my face made me relax, despite all the tension that had happened recently. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood today, beside Newt. The doors were closing in three hours, which meant they would be back in an hour and a half. Not knowing what to do besides waiting, I trudged towards the North doors. There was a sleeping Bagger on the left side of the opening, so I took property of the right. I leaned my back against the concrete walls and slid down, closing my eyes as I absorbed the heat from the spherical ball of fire above me.

Half an hour passed.

Then another half hour,

And another.

I know I was silly to be worried, but the second after they were supposed to arrive, I started to brood. They still had an hour and a half, but Alby liked them back early so he knew they were safe. The runners from the other doors came sprinting in, heading straight for the Runner's hut, but no Newt and Minho.

My stomach did flips, and I stood up, waiting inches from the opening of the maze.

I bit my nails nervously as I waited for them.

I had no reason to worry, right? Alby _preferred _if they came back early, but if they didn't it wasn't a crime. No one else seemed to worry, just gave me odd glances as I watched from the doors.

_"NEEEEEEEEEWT."_

Now that was something to worry about.

Minho's shriek was so far away that I almost didn't catch it, apparently, the sleeping bagger who was supposed to be watching the doors for trespassers didn't either.

_"NEWT WHERE THE SHUCK ARE YOU?!"_

Definitely something to worry about.

I glanced to the sleeping bagger, and back to the maze. No one was around, no one would catch me. But entering the maze was against the rules, even if it was to help someone.

_"NEWWWWWT" _Breaking one of the only three rules in the whole glade, I pushed myself off the floor of the grassy glade and entered the daunting halls of the maze.

I listened to Minho's hollers, following them whenever I reached a fork. The track blurred beneath me, my head slightly spinning, but I pushed further with the last surge of adrenaline, for Newt's sake. I turned left, then right, and then waited for Minho to say something again.

"Come on Minho…" I hissed.

Seconds later, he called Newt's name again. He was close now, maybe two minutes away. This run was the first real exercise I had gotten since my last time in the maze. I couldn't even think about my asthma again though, I just had to run.

I pushed into a sprint, feeling the tense pull on my quads. The pitter-patter of my soles hitting the concrete echoed off the maze walls, making me push myself harder to find Newt or Minho.

"NEW—" Minho started to yell, but I cut him off by accidentally slamming my body into his after turning a sharp corner.

The wind was knocked out of both of us, sending Minho toppling backwards and me clutching my abdomen.

I panted, holding my stomach.

Minho regained himself and stood up, leaning two fingers against the vine-infested walls. "What the shuck are you doing here Florence?!" he admonished, "You're going to be put in the slammer! Run back before someone notices!"

"No!" I yelled back, "Not without Newt."

He huffed, scowling at me as he tried to steady his heavy breathing.

"What happened? Where is he?"

"We were supposed to meet back at this corridor an hour ago. We headed through the north doors and split into two sections once we got to the outer ring of the maze, to cover more ground."

I was bug-eyed. "Are you shucked in the head?" I smacked the top of his head. "You've seen how he's been acting lately; you shouldn't have left him alone. Not after last time."

"How do you know that?" His face scrunched up as he puffed air.

"Alby," I lied.

He shook his head, droplets of sweat falling from his perfectly styled hair. "Well he seemed fine. He was talking to me today. He was telling me things, about you. He never seemed depressed. When we went to split up I insisted we both go through seven, but he disagreed. It was a smart idea at the time."

I groaned, stomping my feet. "You go down the left corridor; I'll go down the right. We don't have much time."

"No," Minho objected, "You go back. I'll find him. You're going to get in trouble… or worse."

My eyebrows scrunched together. What could be worse than the slammer? Being banished? They wouldn't do that to me… would they? Well I had witnessed them doing it before. I didn't care; all I cared about right now was finding Newt. "Not without Newt," I stood my ground.

"Fine," Minho rolled his eyes. "Here, whistle if you find him." Minho handed me an alarmingly red whistle. I shoved it in my pocket. "We used to use them when we got lost, but that rarely happens anymore." He explained, "Now go," He pushed me down the left corridor (Although I clearly stated I was going to take the right) and I continued my sprint.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, feel the wind slip through my loose hair, hear the breeze that buzzed by my ears, and I could see the sun as it started to fall along the horizon of the maze walls.

It casted a wicked looking shadow down in the corridors, making it seem darker than it really was.

"NEWT," I called out, praying for a reply. "NEWT WHERE ARE YOU?" I pivoted, taking random turns and forks. I had no idea where I was going, and part of me started to think splitting up was a terrible idea. What was I thinking? Splitting up is already a terrible idea. I called his name over and over and over.

No reply. Five minutes passed, ten minutes, and I could barely run anymore.

I could feel hope slipping from my grasp as I collapsed onto the floor. I tried to regain my posture. I rested my hands on my knees, running one through my sweaty hair. "Newt…" I whimpered, wiping a tear from my eye as I hunched over. I panted, trying to calm my lungs so Minho didn't have to save two gladers as oppose to one.

Maybe Minho was having better luck.

_"NEWT,"_

Guess not…

The world around me seemed to slow into an almost un-imaginable pace. The beetle blade that had followed me most of the way hear was scuttling along the wall so slowly I wasn't even sure it was moving. The vines hardly moved in the thick breeze that blew by. The only thing that did move, was the whole maze itself as my head spun.

My ears plugged, and I shut my eyes, crouching down on the floor, but not letting my behind touch the concrete.

"Please Newt…" I poignantly cried. "Please…"

A small sob resonated off the maze walls.

But it wasn't from me, nor was it from Minho.

The world seemed to blur back into one, and my ears popped. Everything was normal as I stood up, my ears perking to the noise. The tears stopped falling, and I turned my head to the noise.

Another sob escaped, and I sprinted for it.

I took a left, and another left, until I was met with a dead end. There was nothing but the three walls menacingly staring down at me and a distressed boy rocking himself back and forth, like a mental patient.

* * *

**A/N" Dun dun DUUUUUUUUUH... I promise lots of Newt x Florence fluff next chapter! Thanks for the reviews from HarleyHolmes, PurebloodGirl, and a special thanks to NesisRodrigz lengthy review! I love lengthy reviews they make me feel special and help me spire to write :) Please let me know your thoughts! Thanks for the recent followers and favourites as well. **

**Is there anything you'd like to see? Let me know in the reviews!**

Important: Any ship names for Florence and Newt? I can't seem to think of one myself.


	11. Headaches and Heartaches

I sucked in a breath before clenching both fists and starting towards the boy. I kneeled down to him and grabbed his shoulder. He didn't even acknowledge my existence, just continued whatever sort of fit he was having.

He wasn't crying, just rocking himself back and forth in a un-stable pattern.

"Newt," I shuffled closer on my knees closer to him. "Hey, Newty." I aggressively wobbled his shoulder.

He sobbed, his body convulsing at my touch.

I retracted my arm. I slid my tongue along my bottom lip, looking back into the maze for any sign of Minho. I snatched up the red whistle from my pocket and pressed my lips around the opening, sucking in a large breath, I blew as hard as I could into the whistle.

Newt's shaky hands moved to his ears, shielding out the noise.

"Newt," I shook him again. His eyes flashed to mine. His bleak, lifeless, glazed eyes were fixed on mine, before flickering back to the floor. He wasn't crying, but there were tears in his bloodshot eyes. He was despondent from my pleads, which made me panic. We had about an hour to get back in the glade, not including the half an hour it would take to run back.

"_Please don't take me back…_" He whispered low enough that I almost didn't catch it.

"Newt," I placed my hand on his back. "You have to come back. Please, just stand up, I'll help you. Walk with me."

"No." He barked back.

"Newt, you have to."

He shook his head. "Just leave me here. _Please. _I'm begging you. I can't stay here anymore. I can't! I c-can't."

"What? Just calm down Newt. Why can't you stay here?" I shook him again, trying to force him to look up at me.

"There's no way out."

My heart sunk deep into the bottom of my chest. Fear consumed me, like it did Newt, but I had to stay strong for Newt's sake. I know there was a way out. There had to be. They wouldn't create the maze just to watch us die. We were their subjects. There were still more trials. I had no idea how to get out the maze, but I knew there was a way.

"There's no hope."

"There's always hope," I countered.

"No…" His voice cracked as he tried to suppress the sobs begging to escape. "Just leave me here. Leave and don't come back.

"I'm not leaving without you." A hazardous red color caught my peripheral. On the lit side of the maze wall where the sun still managed to reach, just between two curtains of vines, was blood splatters.

I gasped.

I looked to Newt, who had blood on his face. I trailed down his body, looking for any other obvious wounds. His knuckles were bloody, like he had just endured into a serious fight. His hands were scratched up and there was dirt and remnants of concrete pebbles stuck in his skin. His nails were filthy, and blood-crusted, his arm torn up from scratches

"Newt!" I moved to kneel in front of him. I grabbed his hands, cupping them in mine. His hands were warm, and covered in an alarming red. "What did you do…" I whispered, mostly to myself.

"Don't take me back there, please Florence. Please don't. I hate it. Please." His eyes locked with mine, and a single tear fell down his cheek. His agonized voice shook through me.

"Newt, I'm not leaving you here—"

"NO." His strained shout startled me. "Don't you bloody take me back," He spat through gritted teeth. "I want to die. Leave me here. Let the shuck grievers take me."

His words hung loosely in the air, leaving me heavy-hearted and kaput. My lips quivered as I locked eyes with the broken boy in front of me. His body trembled with anxiety, his hands were bloody with self-inflicted anger, and his face was suffering with clinical depression.

"Newt…" I cried, cocking my head in unpromising incredulity. I held his limp hands tighter in mine.

"JUST LET ME DIE." My ears were ringing with Newt's words, leaving me baffled and speechless. I processed them over and over, but each time I re-imagined them, my heart sank deeper within me, causing my stomach to do somersaults.

I clutched his bloody, shaky, trembling hands tighter in mine, and moved them to my lips. I wasn't kissing them, just letting my lips linger on his skin, letting him know I was there while keeping my distance.

"_Please just let me die…_" His damaged tone of voice broke my heart. "Just let the buggin' grievers take me."

This boy had lost all hope, to the point where he no longer wanted to live.

I shouldn't have given him space.

I ran my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots. I should have given a klunk. I should have invaded his space as much as possible, now I was virtually too late. I had to make a promise to myself, to take care of Newt like he took care of me the second I arrived in the glade.

I shut my eyes, taking a long breath to recuperate myself before making a move. Once I salvaged what was left of my courage, I locked eyes with Newt. "Newt, I'm taking you back. Whether you like it or not."

"No no no…." he whispered he quietly respired. "I can't go back there." He gulped down a mouthful of saliva. "I can't go back. I hate that _shuck _place. We're stuck here Florence. We've mapped the whole maze. There's no way out. There's no bloody way out! Don't you get that? We're going to die here."

"Have hope, Newt!" I protested, "How can you think so little of this situation?"

He scrunched his eyes shut, pulling one of his gory hands out of mine to pinch the bridge of his muzzle.

I had to get through to him. I had to create enough courage in him to bring him back to the glade. Or to Minho, who would forcibly drag him back to the glade.

"Just come back with me and we'll take. Okay? We'll talk, for as long as you want to. When we're done, you can make the choice whether you want to run back in the maze. I won't be able to stop you. Just come back and talk."

"I don't want too." He cried.

"_Please,_" I begged.

He shook his head.

He literally looked like a mental patient in the middle of a psychological breakdown. Newt wasn't meant for the maze, nor was he meant to live here. Three years was far too long. I would give up hope if I had lived three years in a hell hole.

"We're just going to keep getting greenies, and we're going to run out of supplies. There's too many of us. Why struggle? I would be doing the gladers a favor."

"That's a lie and you know it," I growled through clenched teeth.

"No it's not."

"Newt, I promise you, we'll escape the maze. I promise you. Just please, please, come back with me."

"I can't."

I cocked my head, shaking his hands with mine. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't want too."

I internally groaned. We were losing time. Maybe a more aggressive tactic would work. "Well I want you too. I can't live in that klunk-hole if you're not in it." He seemed more responding of my words. "I will literally go out of my shucking mind without you. So get off your shank-ass, pick yourself up, and get back in the glade before I force you too."

In reality, I couldn't force him. I didn't have the strength. But whatever I was saying seemed to work.

"No."

Or maybe not.

Using all the strength I had, and the last resort I had, I picked up Newt.

I hooked my arms underneath his, and since they were wounded he couldn't do much. But that didn't stop him from kicking and shrieking, which little did he know only helped Minho find us.

His protests were strained from trying to curb the sobs, and his voice cracked every time he screamed my name. "LET ME GO."

"MINHO!" I called out.

Like a prayer being heard, Minho came sprinting towards us.

"What the hell happened?" He panted.

"No time to explain," I shook my head, "Help me get him back to the glade."

He obeyed my dictations and grabbed Newt's left shoulder, forcing him down each corridor. I followed Minho's turns, mirroring every move he made.

"TAKE ME BACK!" Newt protested, be we both ignored him. We carried Newt like a prisoner, his feet dawdling behind him. This wouldn't help his limp, but I'd rather him have a bad leg then be eaten alive by a griever.

Newt started to quite down once we got closer to the doors. His shouts turned into whispers and his sob's turned into weeps.

A loud boom, similar to cannon, resonated off the concrete walls. I gasped, turning to Minho. It was the doors. The doors were closing. My heart started beating like a runaway freight train, so I matched its speed with my legs. The floor shook, like an earthquake was about to happen, and the gust of wind that came with every opening and closing caused the vines near us to flail in the wind. That meant we were close.

"Run." Minho ordered.

I ran, faster than I ever had before, not even concerned that I would have another asthma attack. Newt fell into some type of fatigued state, which made him easier to carry while he was limp. The horrific noise of the doors shutting seemed to get louder and louder. The crunch f concrete against concrete was more strident than ever.

We turned one corridor, and then another, and that's when we saw them; A group of gladers, awaiting our arrival. Alby's eyes seemed to catch my eye. They were diversified with rage and hope.

Chuck's hands were locked together, pleading we'd make in time.

"Don't let me go back in there!" Newt yelled one last time, knowing all hope of being eaten alive in the maze was lost now. His heels pushed firmly against the cement in front of us, causing a pile of dust to heap together. He kicked, and squirmed, and used his last efforts, and I admit, he put up a good fight. It was strenuous, but manageable with Minho's help.

We were going to make it. We were going to make it. We were going to make it.

I tightened my grasp on Newt and pulled him closer and closer.

Ten more steps.

Five more.

One more.

We made it.

With seconds to spare, the doors closed with a roaring boom.

Minho collapsed onto the floor, his lungs overworking.

Pain and frustration creased Newt's face. He hated me for bringing him back, but I knew that hatred would soon fade. After collapsing to the floor, he shrugged off Minho and I's grip. He exchanged a death glare with us, before stalking off indignantly towards the homestead.

All eyes were on Newt. Everyone's line of vision pierced into Newt's back, until he shut the door to the homestead. A wave of silence hushed over the gladers.

"Shuck off," Minho shooed them, "Nothing to see here."

They scattered like mice, most huddling together as they ambled towards Frypan's kitchen. An epidemic of prattle formed, and Minho, Newt and I were evidently the theme of issue.

Veer and Alby were the only ones who stuck around.

"Someone want to explain what just happened?" Alby, filled with clear rage, crossed his arms.

Minho scratched his head, left eye squinting. "I don't even really understand what just happened… So I'll let Florence take this one."

In an innocent manner, I folded my hands together, letting them fall in front of me. My head hung low as I faced the superior of the glade.

His generally tranquil and pleasant demeanor quickly changed as his face contorted in an all—consuming anger; his nostrils flaring while his eyes flashed and closed into slits. "You better have a damn good reason for breaking our number one rule Florence." He spat through gritted teeth.

Veer's eyes widened from behind Alby.

"Uhh.. I— U-Umm…" I stuttered incoherently. "It's kind of a funny story…"

"I bet it is." He glared.

My eyes widened in fear as I gulped. "Well… I had finished my shift early today, you know, after being congratulated on being Med-Jack—"

"Oh you're a Med-Jack now?" Minho interrupted.

"Yeah," I smiled.

"Nice!" He lifted a hand to high five.

I returned the gesture, and grinned. When I turned back to Alby, I did a double take. He was practically steaming. His hands closed into fists and he leaned forward to me, daring me to continue.

"Okay so— I was just waiting by the maze doors after work—"

"Why?" He cut off.

I raised my hands in cautiously "Let me finish…"

He huffed angrily.

"I was waiting outside the walls for Minho and Newt to come back. I wanted to speak to Newt. Just as I was about to leave I heard Minho screaming Newt's name in vain, and giving his behavior as of lately, I didn't take that for granted. I know I broke the rules, but it was to save Newt's life. Minho tried to force me to go back, but I refused. So don't blame him for anything."

"What was up with Newt? He was covered in blood, look like he got attacked by a griever or somethin'" He questioned, his belligerent conduct fading now that I was giving him answers.

"He did that to himself. I told you he was getting depressed again and you didn't do anything about it. I took charge in trying to save his life, so you can't blame me for that."

"She's right," Veer agreed, which surprised all three of us. No one stood up to Alby, especially not another keeper.

"Excuse me?" Alby challenged, allowing Veer to step into our semi-circle.

He was hesitant, but stepped closer to us, while defending me. "We all saw how Newt was acting and nobody did anything about it, besides asking if he was okay. She saw an opportunity to help him and she took it. She shouldn't be punished for that."

Alby's wroth behavior continued again, and he glared at Veer.

Veer just shrugged nonchalantly.

"One night in the slammer and no breakfast tomorrow," He stalked off in the other direction, still angry as a bull.

"YES!" I fist pumped. "Thanks Veer,"

I pulled him into a quick hug and high-fived Minho.

"Well go on then," Minho chuckled, giving me a quick shove.

"Go do what?" My eyes narrowed as I gave him a roguish look.

"Talk to Newt," he replied. "It's clear you're the only one he's going to talk to. Or you're the only one he's going to let in."

I bit my lip, "Think I should let him cool off first?"

Minho shrugged, "By the time you gut supplied to clean his hands and walk to the homestead, he should be fine."

I grimaced, but obliged to Minho's suggestion.

I drifted haltingly towards the Med-hut. I was taking my time in confronting Newt. I didn't want him to completely hate me.

My fidgety hands took a while to sort through the different cupboards and drawers in the Med-hut. My first order of business as a Med-Jack would be to tidy this place up and organize everything.

After finding a thick, white, roll of gauze that would sufficiently stop the bleeding and help with the healing process, I grabbed some alcohol to clean his wounds. I grabbed a cloth and a few gauze pads that were sticky on the outside, like a large band-aid, and exited the hut.

Gladers stared at me while I walked across the glade towards the homestead. I ignored them, rolling my eyes. One of the gladers that caught my eye was Marcus. It had been two weeks since I'd been in the glade and on the first day he had attacked me. I had forgotten he was released from the slammer, which gave me an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

I clenched my fists together, holding the fabric and the alcohol tighter in my hands.

His eyes were fixed on mine as we passed by, and instead of saying anything he just tilted his head towards the floor. I nodded back, continuing to homestead. I opened the door, ignoring Alby who was still infuriated with me. I could practically feel his piercing glare on my back as I trudged up the stairs.

I paused before knocking on our door. I held my breath, listening for any sign of life in the room. I heard a deep sigh, and knocked on the door.

"Don't come in," I heard him huff.

Ignoring his lexis, I opened the door. He was rocking back and forth in the hammock, staring at the ceiling. He cupped one hand around a bloody fist. His eyes twitched towards me. "What's the point of knockin' if you're going to come in anyways?"

"I was being polite." My lips pressed together into a tight line as I moved towards him. I grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and dragged it towards the hammock.

"I don't want to talk about it." He asserted, clenching his fist in his other hand. His punched his fist into his hand, which would make the wounds worse.

"You don't have to," I reassured, "I just want to clean you up."

His lips curled into a small frown. The only sound was his fist lightly smacking his hand, and the squeaks of the hinge on the hammock as he swung gently back and forth.

I pulled my chair closer to him, cupping my hands around his.

"I'm not going to take no for an answer, just so you know." I declared. He sighed again, his hands releasing tension in mine.

The sun was just setting over the glade, and a ray of light caught my eye as it beamed down on Newt's hands. It casted a protracted shadow in the room. I should have brought a candle for when nightfall came, but it was too late now.

His eyes were still fixed on the ceiling, avoiding any confrontation with my face. I cocked my head up at the ceiling, exhaling from my nostrils once I saw the un-interesting patterns the wood made. I had traced every line, memorized every hole and caught every rusted nail that was on that ceiling due to insomnia. I of all people knew how tedious that ceiling was.

I let go of his shaky hands and grabbed the bottle of alcohol from the floor. I grabbed the cloth and turned the bottle over, letting the cloth soak up a decent amount of the liquid. I placed the cap back on the bottle, twisting it, and put it back on the floor.

I held out one of my hands, waiting for Newt to place his in it. He was tentative at first, but placed his warm hands in mine. His hands were much warmer than mine, practically scolding my skin. His hand shook in mine.

"Oo! Your hands are cold," He exclaimed.

I ignored his comment and pulled his arm closer to me.

He hissed when I placed the cloth on his wounded hands. "Ah! That bloody stings Florence!" I yanked his arm back in place.

"This is the worst part." I told him, "Just bare with me."

He grumbled.

His eyes scrunched tightly together and he grunted when I started to clean his hand again. I tried to gently dab the cloth, but there was so much dirt and pebbles cemented in his skin that I had to press the cloth roughly against his skin and pull at it in order to get at the rocks.

"Argh!"

"Hold still," I barked.

He inhaled sharply.

Once most of the blood was gone, I moved to his other hand. His hand clenched into a fist as he allowed me to clean it. He bit his lip. This one didn't seem to hurt as bad as the other one, but he still squirmed.

Newt sighed deeply.

My lips quirked into a small smile.

I snatched up the bandages from the floor and grabbed his hand again. I unraveled the whole bandage onto the floor. I gently picked his hand up in mine and started rolling the gauze over his knuckles. I did a few loops, then rolled it over the palm of his hand, leaving an opening for this thumb.

I did the same for his other hand, then asked him to stand up.

"Why?"

"So I can do your arms," I replied back with the same level of sass.

He grumbled again, and groaned as he stood up from the hammock.

Despite being face to face with him, he still refused to let his eyes get caught in mine. I rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The scratches would be a breeze compared to the arms. It only took a minute or two, and when I was done, he attempted to sit back down.

"Wait," I halted him, placing my hands on his shoulders.

I took a seat back in the chair, and grabbed Newt's sides. He squirmed because I tickled him at first, but allowed me to move him in front of me. His knees were resting just above where mine were. I leaned down to the floor, picking up the gauze pads.

His body tensed up when I started to roll the bottom of his shirt up. He didn't resist, but was sure as hell surprised.

I opened up one of the pads, dabbing just a little bit of alcohol onto it. I removed the adhesive so the sticky side to stick to his skin and I placed it on one of the deep cuts on his hips. I did the same to two other cuts.

He finally looked at me, I could feel it. His eyes were on my every move, but I didn't look at him until I was finished. This wasn't the time to be gawking over his incredible physique, but I couldn't help it. After rolling back down his shirt, I finally gazed up at him.

We both remained expressionless as I stood to match his height, although I was a few inches shorter than him. His lips parted and his eyes remained wide.

There was some sort of unspoken chemistry between us, and right now it was on a high. I could feel the electricity in the air; I could sense the energy that came with it.

"How did you know about that?" He broke the silence seconds later.

I shrugged. It didn't really matter how I found it.

His eyes darted all over the place as they fell to the floor, processing everything. It was as if he was re-watching the whole day, every occurrence, and now he was starting to realize the severity of it.

"Gonna tell me how you got that limp?" I asked, my hands remaining comfortably by my side while his were intertwined together. I knew already, but I knew if I asked this would be the breaking point of our short relationship. I knew Newt better then he thought I did. I had watched him, for months, and for him to be on the same page as me would be extraordinary.

His eyes rose to mine, and he gulped. They stared so intently into mine, that I felt like I could touch his soul. "I… uh— I was a runner." He swallowed again, "I got hurt."

"How?" I pushed, knowing he'd break eventually.

His chest heaved up and down as his eyes met mine again. His lungs overworking were the only sound. His lip jutted out, quivering.

"I jumped."

Although I watched him jump from the maze walls, trying to take his own life, hearing him say it still hurt me. He was so broken. He was just a mouse in WICKED's maze, chasing the cheese, which in this case, was our escape route.

"I tried to kill myself, and I would do it again."

I cocked my head, my eyes narrowing in at him as I frowned. "What?"

"I would, I would do it again. I'm surprised I survived this buggin' long... living hasn't exactly been so great anyways."

I shook my head, scrunching my eyes shut. "Don't say that."

"It's true—"

"Don't say that." I aggressively cut him off, my eyes flashing open again. "Don't you shucking say that again."

"I don't care about myself anyway."

"Newt!" I screamed, throwing my hands up in the air. "That's the shucking problem! You don't care if you get hurt. But I'll be broken. So don't say that. Okay? Don't. I don't care if you don't care about yourself, I don't care if you hate me for bringing you back, but you know what I do care about? You."

He took an attentiveness turn for the better.

"If I'm going to live through inside this torturous shuck-hole, so are you. Because if something happens to you—" My eyelids fluttered, trying to blink back the tears. "I— I don't want to make it out either. I know that sounds stupid and cliché like some sappy movie line in a romance film, but it's true. I don't want to see a world without you in it. I want you to be there when we make it out of here. Because I promise you, I swear to shucking God, we will make it out of here."

"How can you be so sure?" He cocked a brow.

"Why else would they keep us here? There's a reason. It's not just for fun. They want us to find the way out, so let's give them what we want."

"Just promise me you won't do anything, Newt. Please. Promise me."

He just blinked profusely.

I felt the tears well up in my eyes. "Don't leave me here, Newt. Please don't leave me. Promise me you won't leave me stranded."

He curled his lips inward, taking a brief moment to process my words. He lurched forward, and wrapped one arm around me, and then the other. "I won't leave you. I promise."

I clutched my arms close to my body, resting my head on his shoulder.

* * *

Newt's finger traced lines lightly underneath my eyes, soothing my body into a fatigued state, but I didn't want to sleep.

He was curled up beside me in the hammock, rocking it gently back and forth. Our friendship had been restored.

His lingering touch made me close my eyes.

"The circle under your eyes, they're getting worse. Darker." I loved hearing his accent, so much that I almost didn't catch that he was talking to me.

My eyelids slowly opened to see his face again.

"Why?" he asked.

"I can't sleep."

"Why?" he repeated.

"I don't want to have a nightmare." I gave him a sad smile, shrugging.

His left hand moved to my face, and he brushed my hair back, just like he had the day I had an asthma attack.

"Ready to spend a night in the slammer tomorrow?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Not really, but if it means being locked away from Marcus, who is now out of the slammer, then I'm okay with it."

"I forget about that," I newt dropped his hand. "I bloody hate that kid."

"Not as much as I do," I added. Newt didn't hate anyone, so he really must have dislike Marcus for what he did to me.

My mind wandered with the following silence. We were both awake, staring at the ceiling of the dimly lit room as our bodies rocked back and forth. I felt so tired… but I couldn't give in. I had to stay awake. I started to drift into another topic, which made me fill with guilt. I had to tell them I remember everything, but I had crossed the boundary where that was acceptable. They wouldn't trust me anymore, but I would be sharing vital information.

Maybe I could just tell Newt. IF he trusted me as much as I trusted him, he would keep it from Alby for a few days.

I wavered back and forth for a while, until Newt spoke again.

"What ya thinkin' about?"

I exhaled, letting my mouth deflate with air. "I have to tell you something."

Newt gave me a probing but alarmed look. "Alright.."

Just as I was about to speak, a splitting headache tore right through my. I shot up in the hammock, causing it to sway violently. Once again, the splitting migraine differed me from telling Newt the truth. It was like it was physically impossible to. Despite the pain, and Newt who was now frantically worrying about me, I tried to spit it out."

It was like I was dyslexic, and had a speech impediment.

All that resonated was incoherent stutters. Something was physically stopping me from telling Newt, and the more I tried to speak, the worse the migraine got. It got to the point where I was clutching my head between my knees on the hammock, and I was trying to hold back my scream by biting my tongue.

It faded, and Newt's babbles and questions went with it.

"What the bloody hell just happened? Are you alright?" His hands questioningly rose in the air.

"Yeah," I replied, still holding my head. I laid back done beside Newt in the hammock and sighed, cshutting my eyes tightly. "I'm fine, just a migraine."

"Klunk… Night terrors, insomnia, now this. You should fetch Jeff in the morning; ask him to give you something."

"I'm fine," I reassured.

Newt shook his head in disagreement, sighing. He prepared himself to sleep, rolling away from me and shutting his eyes.

I crossed my arms over my chest and gazed up at the ceiling. I traced patterns in the wood with my eyes, occupying myself until the sun rose. That was the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to me. I couldn't tell Newt. My tongue literally couldn't spit out the words my brain told them to.

My brain.

This was WICKED. It had to be. They warned me not to let them find out. They were preventing me from telling him. That meant that were tapped in my brain. Which meant they were always tapped in my brain, and that they planned to send me in the maze all along.

My heart beat picked up, beating loudly in my ears like a hummingbird.

I was officially one of WICKED's subjects.

But the question that still marveled me since the day I arrived: Why did I still have my memories?

* * *

**A/N: I'm really excited for you guys to read the next chapter :) Its different then the rest! I've considered what you guys have suggested and I'm defintitely going to incorporate some of it into the fic, so thank you! Thanks for the reviews from scarlett, WarDrobeSpareOom, Theladygeek, boggeledgalaxy****(Thanks for elaborating)****, Harley Holmes, Human wout acc , NesisRodrigz, InvisibleSould4, andsarah0406**

**To those who are disliking how vague I'm keeping the plot and Florence reasoning for being there, I'm sorry! But I have this whole scenario planned out which leads to something else. Besides, isn't the whole point of the maze runner to be kept in the dark?**

** I think I've settled Norence for a ship name :) (Thanks sarah0406)**

**Enjoy!**


	12. The Remaining Four

Thomas spun around in his swivel chair, rotating round and round in a 360 formation. His knees were tucked neatly underneath his chin, and his head hung back as he watched the ceiling gyrate.

He couldn't stop thinking of Florence.

He had tried to stop Janson from taking her, but the doors wouldn't budge. Teresa cried when she found out she was gone. Thomas did nothing but stare at the ceiling, much like he was now. They were the three musketeers, the best of friends. It didn't feel right having Florence snatched from them. Janson was planning to take her the whole time, and they were in the shadows about it the whole time.

Thomas could remember the morning after he woke up, clear as day. As soon as he heard the door unlock, he sprinted out. He was charging like a bull, straight for Janson. He tackled him, their bodies crashing into Aris' desk. There was glass everywhere, shouting, lots of shouting. Most of which was Thomas'. He was pissed, and Janson had apparently expected that. Thomas tried to keep a calm demeanor but it was near impossible. Janson was studying his brain patterns, even before the maze.

He anticipated the drastic changes in his brain patterns, and it was vital in finding a cure for the flair.

WICKED didn't yell at him for breaking Aris' work pad desk, nor did they make him clean up the wreckage. Thomas was their most prized candidate, and he knew that, and he was taking advantage of that privilege.

Thomas watched Florence via the eyes of a beetle blade. Florence acknowledged that it was Thomas the fourth day she was there. Thomas had crawled up her leg and tried to catch the attention of her. He attempted to communicate with her, explain to her that he had no idea she was going to be thrown in the maze, but that was difficult when you couldn't talk.

He tried to tell her that Janson was altering her dreams, manipulating her to see things she didn't want to see. Janson was controlling her brain. Janson didn't want her near Newt, for unknown reasons that boggled Thomas' mind. Newt and her had grown close in the past few weeks.

Nothing had changed in the past few weeks.

Thomas prepared himself to enter the maze in a few days, while Teresa prepared herself to say goodbye. She would follow quickly afterwards.

"Thomas?"

Thomas turned his chair to face the door. Aris, Rachel, and Teresa walked in. They were the last of the subjects, moping around in WICKED's headquarters. In two weeks, they'd all forget each other and be struggling to find a way out of their new hell.

"Hmm?" He perked up.

They all took a seat on the couch in the small office.

"What's up guys?" he let his legs fall to the floor, and he folded his hands on his knees.

Aris cleared his throat, "We just thought that maybe, even though we all aren't that close, that we should spend as much time as possible before… before we forget."

Thomas nodded, "I agree."

He scratched his forearm and licked his lips.

"And also… We – Uh, well, Rachel, found something out and wanted to tell you." He bumped Rachel with his arm. "We thought since you and her were best friends, you'd want to know."

Rachel looked up to Thomas, her long eyelashes flattering her brown eyes nicely. "Well I uh— I overheard Janson and Alistair—,"

"Alistair?" Thomas questioned, "The Crank surgeon?"

Rachel nodded, her blonde curls falling around her face. "They were talking about Florence."

"What about her?" Thomas pushed, engrossed in the subject of the conversation.

Rachel widened her eyes. Her innocent stature retreated a little into the couch. "I couldn't hear much, because they saw me. But they were talking about the second trial."

They had kept most of the second trial hidden from the subjects, despite them losing their memories anyways.

"They said something about Florence." She continued, "About testing her."

"Testing what on her?" Thomas questioned.

"I don't know. All I heard was that they needed her. They said she was an important seed in the development of you."

"Of me?" He arched a brow.

"Yeah," She shrugged, "I don't know."

"That doesn't make sense…" Thomas ran a thumbnail along the bottom of his lip.

"That's what I said," Teresa added.

Thomas stood up, startling everyone. He walked over to one of the filing cabinets and punched the code to open the glass cabinet. There were hundreds and hundreds of files on the flare, on WICKED, on cranks, and there was a file for each subject. Everything that was anything since the sun flares had scorched the land had a file in this room.

"ERROR" The codes automated voice said audibly.

Thomas punched the code in again.

"ERROR."

Again,

"ERROR."

Thomas whipped around to the three subjects sitting on the couch. "What's the code?"

"484391," Teresa replied.

Thomas frowned, "That's what I typed." He swiped his fingers across the pad rapidly, trying over and over.

"ERROR. ERROR. ERROR."

Thomas turned back to them.

"What are you trying to do?" Aris asked, sitting up.

Thomas' lips tightened into a line. "I'm trying to access her file. Maybe there's more information."

"They must have changed the code." Aris replied. "They're trying to hide something."

"But why?" Rachel asked.

"Because they know we know something's up." Thomas retorted. "We're getting closer to entering the maze. They're going to insert the swipe in us in a few days and our memories will be gone for good, so why does it matter?"

Aris shrugged, "Beats me,"

"Well just because they're entering the swipe in our brains, doesn't mean they're not monitoring us right now." Teresa expressed. "Florence wasn't even supposed to be part of the trials, or so we thought, and now we find out they've been planning it all along."

"So what do we do?" Thomas asked, "Retaliate?"

Teresa shook her head. "There's not much we can do. We just have to play along until we're sent in the maze. By then, these thoughts will be long gone."

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, frowning as he shook his head. "That doesn't feel right."

"Dude, does any of this feel right?" Aris disputed. "None of this is normal. We just have to trust WICKED and focus on the task at hand, which is finding a cure."

"But is that the right thing to do?"

"It's the only thing we can do," He told Thomas. "It's too late to turn back now. We just have to trust our inner selves and pray we make the right decisions after we have our memories swiped."

Thomas wasn't content with Aris' words, but he was right. They couldn't stop the trials, they couldn't do anything. They were WICKED's chew toys. They just had to do what they said and hope that a cure came out of all this.

Thomas sighed, his eyes glancing to a work pad in the corner of the room.

A small scream resonated from the work pad, and he watched Florence jolt out of the bed in a cold sweat through the eyes of a beetle blade while Janson filled her brain with counterfeit images.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short, hopefully it clears some things up but also leaves you guessing! Can't give away the whole plot ;)**

**Thanks for the reviews from Sarah0406, steggy4ever, NesisRodrigz, InvisibleSoul4 and special thanks to TenebrisSagittarius! I love lengthy review and honest thoughts :) Thanks for the kind words guys, let me know what you thought of this chapter!**


	13. The Slammer

**Beware the time jump in this chapter! Also, italics signify a memory. Sorry in advance if this sucks..**

* * *

Two weeks had passed, and everything came back into place. I had spent a night in the Slammer after running into the maze to save Newt, and let me tell you, that small brick building is way more menacing and terrible on the inside.

Being a Med-Jack was easy; probably the easiest job in the glade because you could slack off most of the time. Thomas' arrival was tomorrow and I tried to mentally prepare myself for his onset. Would he remember me? Of course he wouldn't. Chuck didn't.

Newt and I's relationship grew closer. He still slept with me the night's I had night terrors. I kept seeing those daunting green eyes. They were scarier than any griever or blood lusting crank.

There were a few peaceful nights, where I never actually fell asleep; instead I brushed Newt's hair until he fell asleep. Other nights were worse, where I would just cry in his arms and he would just whisper 'It's alright love' In my ear. Those were the only times he ever called me that, and I think I liked it that way. Night time was peaceful routine for us. It was something I looked forward to. We never cuddled or anything likes that. It was just nice to have the warmth of another body net to yours, something I'm sure the other gladers longed for.

There were times when Minho had to come in and help hold me down until I stopped screaming. The comments of me looking like a walking corpse never stopped, and they were starting to irritate me. Jeff suggested a sleep sedative, and Clint practically forced a pill don my throat once. It only made them worse, though.

The most exciting thing that had happened in the past two weeks was a conversation I had overheard.

_I strolled casually down the homestead hallway, headed for Newt and I's room. I was planning on asking him for a change of clothes, seeing as the ones I was wearing were getting tattered and covered in holes._

_Just as I placed my hand on the doorknob, prepping my wrist to turn to the right, I heard voices. Multiple voices._

_"Keep your shuck voice down, Minho." Newt hissed._

_"I knew it, I shucking knew it." Minho chuckled smugly._

_Knows what?_

_I cupped a hand around my ear and leaned closer to the door, pressing my side against it._

_"I'm serious, Minho. Tell anyone and I will forcefully put you in the Slammer for a week. Alby wouldn't even question it. I don't want the whole buggin' glade to know." he grumbled._

_There was a shuffling noise, and a brief silence._

_"Are you gonna tell her?"_

_Another silence._

_Newt cleared his throat before responding. "No."_

_My brows furrowed together as I tried to get a better listen. They were getting quieter and whatever they were saying was too low for me to hear._

_I was the only 'she' in the glade, so the topic was obviously something to do with me._

_"Alby won't be happy if he finds out," I heard Newt verbalize louder. "And I have a feeling the other gladers won't be too bloody happy either."_

_"Dude, you can't just hide it forever. If you like her, tell her. Simple as that, klunk-head. Might as well make the most of this place while we're stuck here."_

_There was a loud clatter as my body crashed to the floor. I tried to stand, but was too overwhelmed with the words that just came out of Minho's mouth. I scrambled against the wooden floor, dusting off the immense amount of dirt there were on my already filthy clothes._

_"What was that?" Minho ameliorated to my noise-making._

_"What the shuck…" Newt added in a confused voice_

_Finding the nearest room, I burst through the first door I saw._

_Veer jumped when he saw me, dropping the pile of clothes that was in his hands. I slipped against the floor, but attempted to regain myself as I shut the door behind me._

_"Act casual," I told him. I sprinted over to the corner of his room and sat cross legged._

_Veer just glared at me like I had just been emitted from a mental hospital, his brooding brows hanging lower than normal._

_Minho opened the door seconds later. He shuffled into the room, followed by Newt._

_"Whats… up, guys?" Veer asked, putting his best acting face on as he raised his brows in the air in confusion. He leaned to the floor to pick up the clothes he had dropped._

_"Nothing…" Newt furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the room._

_"You didn't just hear that?" Minho threw a thumb over his shoulder._

_"Hear what?" I asked, pretending to pick a thread off the side of my pant leg._

_Minho shook his head. "Never mind," He grumbled, pushing Newt at the door._

_As soon as they were out of ear's reach, and I observed them as they walked out the homestead, Veer turned to me._

_Instead of preparing myself for the bombarding of questions, I sprinted towards the door. "No time to explain. I owe you. Thanks!" I blew him a kiss and shut the door behind me._

_I strolled back into my room, which was now empty, and collapsed onto the hammock._

_Newt liked me? Like like liked me? Did I like him? I don't know… I mean I watched him before I entered the maze, and I felt some sort of unspoken connection with him even before I met him. But now that I was here, well, I wasn't sure. I was lying to him, and the worst part was that I couldn't tell him. He would hate me once he found out I remembered everything._

_None of us even had time to develop a crush on one another. The glade was so fast-paced and habitual._

_He was right, Alby and the other gladers would dislike it if we started having a relationship._

_For now, I had to suppress whatever sort of feelings I had for Newt (Whether they more than just platonically or not) just as he apparently was._

_I sighed, sinking deeper into the comfort of the hammock._

Speak of the devil, his familiar British accent sounded from behind me."Whatcha doing?"

I peeked my head over my right shoulder, smiling at him. "I'm writing a request."

I was sitting cross legged in front of the box, on the cement ring around it. I had a paper and pen in my hands.

"A request for what?" He rested a hand on my shoulder, smiling down at me.

Instead of telling him, I wrote it.

**INHALER**

"Smart thinking, although I don't imagine you'll go back into the maze anytime soon."

I gave him a cheeky grin, cocking a brow. "Well I promised myself after I had that attack that I'd never set foot in that maze again unless it was to find a way out, but that plan didn't roll out as intended." I shook my shoulder up and down, where his hand gently rested.

"I'm glad you made an exception for me," He chuckled lightly.

"I'd only make an exception for you," I tried to give him a cunning wink, although it must have appeared a lot less sly then I thought so, because I earned another chuckle from him.

I lifted my hands in the air, folded note in one hand, marker in the other.

Newt took my hands, hoisting me off the floor. I readjusted my pants that were riding up, and gave him a gentle, closed lipped smile. He was watching me absorbedly, eyes on me no matter what movement I made.

I stepped closer to the box, leaning on the small railing that was made for safety reasons. I slipped it through one of the holes in the cage doors and watched it float to the bottom like a feather.

I turned back to Newt, dusting my hands off and shoving the marker in my pocket, mentally making a note to return it to Minho later.

Newt and I harmoniously started towards the lookout tree. I was on my 'break' for today. Although, it wasn't really a break. There was just nothing to do in the Med-Jack hut. I had spent all morning organizing it. I divided the room into three sections. Medical supplies (Like bandages, band-aids, gauze, tensors, etc,.), Medications, Medical utensils (Scissors, scalpel's, thread and needle for stitching), and miscellaneous. I moved the gurney's to the middle of the room and labeled all the cabinets for easier access in emergencies.

"I like you better like this," I quietly mentioned, as Newt's shoulder accidently bumped mine.

"Like what?" He limped slowly beside me, trying to keep up with my quick pace.

I leisured my stroll, making sure he could keep up.

"You're happier. Slowly you've been getting happier and happier the past few days. I like it." I licked my lips, gazing up at the bright spherical ball of fire in the sky. It hurt my eyes and made me wish I had requested for sunglasses instead. My olive skin was on fire, and the long sleeved shirt I was wearing made me uncomfortably warm. It would be so much easier if they dropped me into Group B and I could freely walk around in just a bra.

"You do eh?" He asked with a light chuckle.

"Mhm," I nodded proudly.

I took the initiative of climbing up the ladder of the lookout tree first.

It was pretty tall, and I had never been up there. Mainly because my slight fear of heights was stopping me. Today seemed like the perfect, safest day to do it.

I positioned my right foot on the ladder and gripped the sides of the wooden structure tightly.

I took a few steps, then glanced down to make sure Newt was following. He was right behind me, gazing up at me while he waited for me to take the next step.

"So how do you know I'm happier?" He asked from below.

I moved up the ladder at a quicker pace now, being assured of the safety of the structure.

"Well, for one, you're talking to me again. You didn't talk to me when you were sad."

He just laughed dryly, almost sarcastically. "Missed my charming voice, eh?"

"I wouldn't go that far," I replied back audaciously with a crooked smirk, even though he couldn't see.

I tried to glance down at him again as I continued to walk. "And you're smiling more—WOAH,"

Using the strength of only my arms, I attempted to keep my body up. I missed my footing on the step and I fell a few inches. I was more scared of landing on Newt than I was falling to my death.

I gasped as I hung from only the strength of my arms. I tried to regain my footing, but couldn't find the step. My feet kicked mercilessly in the air, causing me to panic more then I should have as my grip started to weaken.

"I got ya," I felt Newt place his warm hand on my side. He cushioned it below my rib and pushed me upwards with all the fore he could.

Eventually I found the step, and I smiled down at him before climbing again.

After making it to the top, I collapsed on the wooden shelf.

The tree protruded threw the floor, and there was a wooden railing around the floor for safety purposes. I crawled over to the edge of the tree, and swung my legs over it. There was a wooden pole between my legs, and I wrapped one arm around the pole, leaning around it so I could get a good look a the glade.

It was actually beautiful seeing it from this point of view. I could just see the tops of the maze walls, only just. It was too difficult to map from here, but it was interesting seeing it from this high up. Newt joined me as I smiled happily at the glade.

Instead of letting his legs dangle over the edge like I did, he just sat on the floor, moving his legs to the right and rotating his body sideways to face the North doors.

The mellifluous noises of the glade rang in my ears. The livestock were tuneful in the distant, while the builders' violent noises of hammers hitting hard rock were contradictory. I watched as Chuck walked below or feet, telling an in-depth story to another glader who didn't seem to be really paying attention.

I watched Chuck sigh in frustration. His eyes wandered upwards, and his eyes caught mine. "Hey Florence!" His hand waved back and forth in a rapid motion.

I laughed cheerfully "Hey Chucky," I called down.

He ambled away from us with a gummy grin.

The touch of Newt's warmth was still lingering on my side, like I had been branded. I sighed happily, bringing one knee close to my chest as I rested my chin on top of my hands that were folded.

"What's bloody got into you?" Newt's lips quirked upwards. Not fully into a smile, but not a frown. One brow rose higher than the other.

"Can't a girl be happy?" I shrugged, scanning the glade with my eyes, ignoring his fixed stare on me in my peripheral.

"Not in this place," He scoffed.

"Says the lizard boy," I teased with a close lipped smile.

"What?" He sneered with a laugh.

"Lizard boy. Newt. Your names Newt. It's an aquatic amphibian—"

"I know what it is," he cut me off, "That was just… never mind. Anyways, not many people can be content in a buggin' place like this."

"Why not?" I shrugged, "I mean yeah, this place is a hell hole and I want to escape just as much as the rest of you. But we're stuck here, for now, anyways. So we might as well make the most of this place while we're stuck here," I quoted Minho, "And we are. We're like a family."

"One bloody messed up family," He snorted.

"Still, a family," I remarked.

He was silent for a brief moment, before sighing and clearing his throat. "I admire your positivity in a place like this."

I finally turned my head to look at him, but he was no longer look at me. His downcast eyes remained on the grass below us. "Someone's gotta be positive."

"Yeah," was all he said.

I planted my hands on either side of my body on the wood beneath me, letting my body hand back as I swung both legs over the edge again.

Newt mimicked my movements.

His pinky grazed mine, and he flinched back, like I had scolded him.

He let out a small cough to clear his throat and then shuffled farther from me.

I was the one surveillancing him now. I bit my chapped lips, before looking back towards the doors. I lifted my hand and let it hover across the wood, until I placed it on top of Newt's

His had whipped to face me, and instead of looking back at him, I just grinned, my line of vision still facing the maze doors.

Eventually, his wide eyes softened, and his tense hand relaxed. He rotated his hand inwards and clasped our fingers together, intertwining them in one another.

I wasn't sure if this was a gesture of good camaraderie, or something more. But I wasn't too quick to find out. Instead, I leaned my head back and let my body bathe in the warmth of the sun.

Newt did the same.

* * *

After fixing up a deep cut on Ben's knee (If there was an award for most visits to the Med-Jack hut, Ben would win.) I dismissed him out and turned to clean up the mess I had caused.

I had seen quite a few patients today since after Newt and I hung out on the lookout tree. Shortly after the hand holding, a glader came in 'sick' with a sore throat. He claimed he had caught strep from Ben, although he wasn't a runner. After examining his throat (While ignoring the creepy stares he gave me) I concluded that he wasn't ill at all, and Jeff was there to back up my answer.

After that, I had three other boys come in claiming similar things. One was a sprained ankle, one was also strep, one was the flu, and the other was just a bad headache, which I couldn't give him anything for.

Jeff and I deduced that the boys weren't actually coming in because they were sick. He claimed that he hadn't seen that many sick boys in, well, ever… It was because there was a female med-jack. It had been happening a lot in the last few weeks.

So thankfully, Jeff let me end my shift early while he tended to the line of boys outside. Sure enough, half of them dispersed after my leaving.

_"It's ridiculous and pathetic." _

_"Yeah, just because he's lost and broken, doesn't mean he gets the girl."_

My head whipped to the left, towards the forest. I could see two shadows. The sun was setting and it was too dark for me to see the faces. One was leaning against a tree, while the other one was kicking the pavement near the runner's hut.

I bit my lip, before deciding on eavesdropping. I took a few steps towards them, remaining concealed behind the runner's hut.

When the light hit one of the boys face, I saw Marcus. Marcus, and the first glader I had attended to this morning. The one who allegedly was 'too sick to work'.

"It's disgusting. It's like they're in their own little world." Marcus hissed. His hands clenched into fists, and his teeth grinded together. "I shucked up the first day, and she avoided every boy like the plague. If it weren't for me, she wouldn't even be sleeping in his room."

The shorter glader tucked his long hair behind his hear. "Grinds my gears how worshipped Newt is. Him and Minho." He cleared his throat, throwing his hands up in the air flimsily. "_Ooo he's so strong! Him and Alby are such great leaders! They're so courageous!" _he mimicked.

I debated on turning around and cooling myself off, but I was addicted to their conversation. The more ire I got, the more I wanted to listen.

"He follows her around like lost puppy, for shuck's sake!" Marcus threw his hands in the air, grumbling as he did so.

And that was my cue.

I stomped out of the bushes beside the runner's hut, and Marcus and the other glader stared at me with wide eyes.

"Woah woah woah…" Marcus shielded his face, stumbling back against a tree.

"Shucking say that to my face!" I screamed at him, fist high in the air. The other glader made a run for it, sprinting deeper into the forest, towards the cemetery.

"I mean, come on…" he tried to plead with me, "I didn't know you were there!"

"Doesn't matter," I threateningly pulled my fist higher in the air, grabbing the collar of his shirt.

"Just wait! Hear me out!"

I shook my head, brooding eyebrows sinking lower.

"What's going on over here?" Gally came striding towards us, crossing his arms over his brawn chest. I ignored his arrival, knowing him of all people would do the same in this situation.

"Say it again, I dare you, Slinthead." I goaded him.

"Fine," He submitted, "Let me go first."

I released the collar of his shirt, but didn't relax my threatening stance.

"Guys, what's going on?" Gally asked again.

"Tell him, Marcus." I lunged forward, shoving him in the chest.

He grunted, dusting his chest off. "Well I was just commenting on how desperate Newt is, following her around like a lost puppy. Do you hear the rumors about you two?"

My brows furrowed in confusion.

Marcus smirked smugly, "Let's just say that no one thinks your screams are fearful, nor are they caused from nightmares."

My fist came crashing down, clipping Marcus square in the jaw with a thundering crack.

"Alright! That's enough," Gally screamed at us. I was preparing to throw another punch, but Gally handcuffed my hands behind me with his hands. His hands moved to my biceps and he pulled at me as I continually lunged as Marcus, screaming profanities that should never be said.

Marcus just grinned maniacally, blood dripping from his nose and over his lips. It stained his teeth red, making him appear more evil then he already was.

"Something I always ask myself is why does Newt get the girl?"

"I'm not his girlfriend." I cut him off in anger.

He smiled again. "But why Newt? A whole maze full of boys and you choose him. If I tried to kill myself, would you like me too? "

I screamed at him, spit flying out of my mouth as I tried to charge at him again.

"Enough Marcus!" Gally cried, "Florence calm down!" his sweaty grip on my arms were beginning to burn as I twisted and turned.

"You shuck face! You're a coward, you're a shucking coward. You're just jealous! Wait till I shove my foot up your—"

"FLORENCE" Alby's voice caused everyone to hush into a silence.

Marcus rubbed the corner of his jaw, wincing at the swelling that was forming on his jaw line.

"I don't want to know what happened, and I don't want to find out. Gally, you and Veer throw Florence in the Slammer. Marcus, go see Clint in the Med-hut. We'll talk later. Try not to pick any fights on the way there."

I let out an exasperated, shoving Gally's grip off my arms.

I trudged past a few gladers that were now starting to pay attention to the commotion. I frowned, ignoring their fixed gazes on me.

"Florence, what's going on?" Newt came limping towards me, a perplexed expression written across his face.

I scrunched my nose and shook my head. "Nothing," I sighed. My shoulder accidently made contact with his, appearing as if I shoulder checked him. I gave him a short apology, lightly patted my hands on his shoulder, and then continued to stomp towards the Slammer.

"Sorry about this, Florence." Veer apologized, placing a hand on my back as we got closer to the make-shift jail. "It's order. Order is what keeps us alive. Gotta follow Alby's instructions."

"I know, blah blah blah." I let out an annoyed groan as Veer pulled the rusty, door. It screeched loudly, making me flinch.

"Now it's standard procedure for me to ask you what rule you broke, you know, make sure you remember and all." Veer smirked.

"I know…" I moaned, recalling the last time I was in here for running in the maze to save Newt.

"Well go on then."

"Never harm another glader." I sighed with an eye roll, seating myself in the old rickety chair in the corner of the begrimed room.

"Good that," Veer nodded. He started to slide the door shut.

"Woah, wait. Don't I get some form of entertainment? Paper maybe? A pen?"

"Nada," He denied with a sullen shrug.

I groaned for the millionth time.

"I'll be here to let you out tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. You've broken two rules so far. Third time you strike out." He supplied with a scolding head shake, "You're lucky you didn't get more. It's a good thing Alby likes ya."

"You call that liking?" I grimaced.

Veer ignored my comment, "Get comfortable, shank."

The door closed and silence pooled around me. I was left with only my thoughts and the stench of stale sweat and blood.

* * *

**A/N: Thomas in the next chapter! Yay for Norence! Thanks to HarleyHolmes and InvisibleSOul4 for the reviews. Tell me what you would like to see :) For the next few chapters, I am torn on going for the book ir movie adaption. What do you think? Maybe I will combine both!**


	14. Thomas

How did Marcus spend a whole week in here?

Five minutes and I wanted to commit suicide. The only light was emitting from a small window about 1 foot by 1 foot, with steel bars.

Sleeping wasn't so bad, but it was lonely. This time when I woke up screaming from a nightmare, no one came to save me. After waking up in an unpleasant way, I listened to the whirring and the sickening howls of the grievers in the distance.

When morning came, I heard the familiar blare of the alarm signifying a new greenie. That would be Thomas. My best friend, who no longer remembered my face. Adjusting to Chuck forgetting me was hard enough, now I had to watch Thomas greet me like a stranger.

The alarmed blasted for about half an hour. Just as I was starting to grow accustomed to it, it stopped.

There was hooting noises and cheers emitting from the middle of the glade later. I tried to stand on the old rickety chair that sat in the corner of the room and peer out the window, but the window was pretty small and the lookout tree blocked the Box.

The only thing I saw was Thomas trying to make a run for it, but failing miserably as he tripped over his own shoes, somersaulting a few feet.

They all hooted again, but Thomas ignored them, seeming in his own world. His expression was almost heartbreaking. He looked like an owl as his neck rotated almost a full 360. His mouth hung wide open and he gawked at his surroundings. Briefly, he looked my way, but there was no way he could see me.

Several minutes later, the gladers huddled around him, poking and prodding their new toy.

"He's a klunk, so he'll be a Slopper- no doubt about it!" I heard Marcus yell.

I clenched my fists. That boy never failed to grind my gears.

I watched Alby dictate orders to the gladers moments later, barking that they should return to their jobs. The crowd dispersed and I watched Chuck walk off with Thomas. It must have been Chuck's turn to deal with the new Greenie.

I groaned as I collapsed back into the chair, rocking myself back and forth.

No food came my way the whole day, and I didn't mind. Most of the time, being in the glade, I forgot to eat. If it weren't for Newt reminding me to fill my stomach up, I'd probably unknowingly expire from starvation by now.

The rest of the didn't make me feel as insane as the night did. When the sun started to set, and the Maze doors closed, Veer finally released me from the Slammer.

"You aren't dead, are ya shank?" He asked, sliding open the cell door.

"You tell me," I asked, practically running out of that putrid, malodorous, insanity striking place.

"You eager beaver," Veer commented, chuckling as he shoved the keys in his pocket.

I rolled my eyes. "How's the new greenie?" I asked him.

"See for yourself," He shoved one hand in his pocket, and pointed with the other. I followed his finger to see Newt limping towards us, Thomas close by.

Veer strutted off in the opposite direction.

"—And this place?" Thomas asked, pointing curiously to the Slammer beside me.

"That's the Slammer; keep only the worst criminals in there." Newt smiled crookedly.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes, giggling.

Newt chuckled, slowing to a standing position as him and Thomas neared me. "Greenie, this here's Florence. She's a med-jack, as of recently. Florence, this is our new Greenie." Newt gestured.

"Nice to meet you Thomas," I greeted with a sad smile. Just as I predicted, he didn't remember me. But there was a flicker of hope when I watched him squint his eyes, scrutinizing me. Hey narrowed them, his eyes darting back and forth as he analyzed every facet of me.

"What's wrong, ya shank, griever got your tongue?" Newt slapped Thomas' arm. "Can't speak in front of pretty ladies?"

I felt my cheeks flush red at Newt's words, but I watched Thomas fixedly.

"You remember something about her?" Newt asked, shoving Thomas with his shoulder. "Hey, Slinthead, I'm talking to you. You in there?"

Thomas shook his head, breaking whatever trance he was in. He shook off the last of his stupor, and his lips tightened into a hard line. "Yeah— I mean no. Wait— how did you know my name?"

Klunk. "Veer." I nodded in the direction that Veer had departed in.

"Oh," His eyes dropped to the floor. "So what's it like being the only girl in the glade?"

"What? Who told you I'm the only girl? You haven't met Minho yet?" I pretended to stage.

Newt burst into a chortled fit of laughter. He slapped his hand on his knees. It was probably the hardest I had ever heard him laugh, which made me laugh. I even earned a smile from Thomas.

It made my heart ache to see Thomas smile like that. His memorable blithe demeanor was vanished. He was such a high-spirited boy, and to see him confused, lost, scared, distressed and sullen, was heart-rending.

I deadpanned, trying to veil my vacant emotions.

"You alright Florence?" Newt's face flashed into a look of concern.

I let my hair curtain my face as I nodded. "Yeah— I'm just hungry. I'll go grab a bite to eat. Nice to meet you Thomas."

I started towards Frypan's kithen, hearing Thomas' pleasant comments about me. "I like her. She doesn't call me 'shank' or 'Greenbean' or whatever else is in your weird vocabulary."

* * *

The smell of campfire set my heart at ease. The bright ribbons of red and yellow heat intertwined in front of me, sparks falling to the floor like small fireworks. It cycloned in circles, causing crackling noises to resonate from it.

Winston poked the fire with a stick, readjusting it in the opening indented into the ground. He stumbled back when a mini-explosion occurred, then scanned the crowd, making sure no one had witnessed what I just had.

I smirked.

The log moved, rolling forward an inch when an individual sat next to me. I didn't have to turn to know it was Newt. I could tell by the musky scent, and I could sense by the aptly eyes that were on me.

I leaned forward, folding my hands on my knees and smirking again.

"What was with you earlier?" Newt asked after clearing his throat.

I bit my lip. "Nothing."

"You bloody acted like you saw a ghost or somethin'" He informed me, "Not fond of the new Greenie?"

I shrugged, "He's fine."

"Then what the bloody hell is wrong? You're all mopey and stuff. I don't like it." I finally turned to look at him and watched as he shook his head, frowning.

He had a jar of Gally's alcohol in hand. Wanting to forget the sorrow's I had, and forget about the staggering memories I shared with old Thomas, I snatched the drink from his hand, starting to guzzle it down. "You don't have to like it," I told him after wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt.

"Hey Thomas," Newt waved the boy, who was previously immersed in dialogue with Chuck, over.

"No! Newt— No." I opposed in protest, grabbing his bicep and shaking it.

As much as I missed my best friend, I didn't want to talk to him. I needed to… adjust… first.

"Florence, what's the big deal? Bloody hell, it'll be fine." He kept waving him over. "He's not going to bite you or somethin'"

Thomas strided over with a gummy smile. He took a seat beside Newt, and leaned his elbow on one knee to face us. "What's up guys?"

Newt glanced back to me, a bold smile pressed on his lips. "Nothing really. I was just telling Florence here—" he pointed to me, "How you're one hell of a curious greenie."

"Is he now?" I cocked a brow. I huffed, leaning my hand on my fist.

"Yeah," He responded, nudging my shoulder. "Unlike you. Actually, now that I think about it, you hardly asked any questions at all."

I bit my lip, my eyes gaze descending back to the fire.

"So Florence," Thomas started, rubbing has hands together, "What's it like being the only girl in the glade?"

I didn't want to be completely rude, so I tried my best to engage in conversation until I found the perfect time to escape. "It's uh… It's something…"

"Don't you find it weird?"

I cocked my head.

"I mean a community of almost fifty boys and you're the only girl. That's not weird to you?"

"It's very weird," I agreed with a head nod, "But I guess I never really thought anything of it.

"Maybe the Creators have something against you. Or maybe this is some post-apocalyptic thing and you're the only girl left in the entire world."

I snorted. If only they knew.

"Or maybe this is jail!" He put forward "Maybe we're all criminals and this is our punishment."

Newt smirked at Thomas' theory.

"I'll be right back," I patted Newt on the shoulder. He nodded as I walked over to Veer, who was crafting drinks like a bartender at a small wooden table.

"Hit me," I slammed a jar on the wooden table, jumping slightly as it shook from un-stability.

Veer grinned, "Shouldn't have asked me that."

He grabbed a large glass bottle. The label had been ripped off, so it was undetectable as to what drink, or even what type of alcohol it was.

He smiled, pouring the drink into my jar. He raised the bottle as it poured, letting the stream of liquid go higher and lower.

When it touched the rim of my jar, he stopped, placing the bottle back onto the table. He pressed both palms against the table and waited for me to drink.

I eyed him cautiously, my lips quirking into a small smile as I raised the jar to my lips.

I tossed back the amber-colored liquid, letting it fall down my throat. I coughed when I felt cold liquid scorch my throat, making the pit of my stomach do somersaults when it arrived at it.

"What is this?"

"No idea!" Veer practically cheered, a little bit of a comical tone in his voice.

I grimaced, but tossed back the rest of the liquid. I chugged it until the jar was as dry as our scorched earth.

"Should probably slow down there, Flo, don't want to get sick." Veer warned me.

I shrugged. "Another," I ordered, pushing my glass towards him.

"Here," He said, turning around. He picked up another bottle. This liquid was browner in color, like dirty water. The label was also ripped off, and the bottle was plastic as oppose to glass. "Try this instead."

The bottle made a sloshing noise as the last drops of liquid emptied into my jar. Again, it touched the very rim of my jar. I swished it back, not even stopping to breathe.

I gasped for air as I slammed my jar back on the table. This one smoldered my throat even more then the last one. It had a cinnamon taste, which made it barely drinkable.

"Bad day or something, girly?" Minho moved beside me, folding his arms on top of the table as his eyes darted back and forth from me to Veer.

I ignored Minho's commentary and pushed my mug back to Veer. He filled it again, with the same drink I had first, and this time stopped when my cup was half full.

"Holding back on me Veer? Come on, keep going." I ordered, gesturing with my hands as my eyes remained on my jar.

He hesitated, but poured more in.

Just like the last two drinks, I guzzled it down in a matter of seconds.

"Okay, that's enough." Minho snatched my cup from my hands, and tossed aside to a patch of grass.

I pouted.

Minho cocked a brow, as if to say 'really?'

"Thanks Mom," I teased, licking my lips.

My stomach felt bubbly, and weird. It tossed and turned, and my throat still had the burning sensation. I coughed, trying to rid it.

"You okay there she-bean?"

I shook my head, "I'm not the she-bean anymore."

"You're still a she…" Minho countered.

I shrugged, my eyes closing and opening so sluggishly that it freaked me out. I was already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, and I couldn't quite comprehend whether I liked it or hated it.

I shook my head, feeling dizzy, and averted my eyes back to Newt and Thomas. They were sitting in the sand now, their backs pressed against the log. Only now, instead of facing the fire, they were facing the glade. Newt made gestures with his hands, explaining things to our new Greenie.

The world seemed to slow when I watched Newt laugh. His mouth opened wide, and a fit of comical mirth departed from it. His eyes squinted ever so slightly, like they were smiling, and small dimples pressed themselves adorably in his cheeks. The twinkle in his eyes reminded me of home. It reminded me of what it was like before the sun flares, before our land was scorched. They made me feel something that I hadn't felt in a long time. Looking at them now, seeing that little glimmer of blitheness made my heart want to leap out of my chest. And that smile. That damn, shucking smile.

He hardly ever smiled like that, and seeing him so buoyant and beatific made me exultant.

He nodded at something Thomas said, his head bopping up and down like a bobble head on the dash of a car. Whatever Thomas said caused Newt to chortle again; his eyes shutting close as his body leaned forward, slapping his hand against his thigh.

He grinned wider, handing Thomas a jar of whatever he was drinking.

He caught me ogling at him and he did a double take. He sent me soft smile, one that allured me in.

I bit my lip, trying to hide the smile that so desperately wanted to escape. He smiled wider, turning back to Thomas. His eyes glanced every so often back at me, and it warmed my heart.

"—Florence. You in there?" Someone was snapping their hands in front of my face, and I leaned back, startled at its closeness, and shook my head, exonerating the stupor.

"Um… Hello." I blinked rapidly, trying to focus my blurry vision on Marcus.

Marcus was in front of. His tall posture slumped closely beside me, and his brooding eyes seemed to pierce into my soul. His face was still a little swollen, and there was two stitches under his right cheekbone, were blood had made an appearance.

"I better make this quick, because Newt already looks like he's going to murder my ass." He shivered, "He creeps me the shuck out sometimes."

My body rotated back to Newt, who was fuming already. His eyebrows were drawn together and one arm was resting on the leg, ready to pounce on Marcus if needed. Thomas tried to follow Newt's line of vision, but he just seemed utterly confused.

"So you probably hate me, and I'm not exactly your biggest fan…" He gestured with his ahnds, his eyes rolling along the bottom of his waterline.

"Correct," I interrupted, crossing my arms over my chest. I had no patience for this Slinthead.

"But just hear me out, okay? Just for a minute." He pleaded.

"You have thirty seconds," I counteracted.

"Fine," He grumbled, "Alright, so I know I'm pretty much the biggest asshole in the entire planet. I mean, on the first night I practically threw myself at you,"

"That's an understatement…"

He rolled his eyes. "Anyways, can you really blame me? I mean you're the first girl any of us have ever seen—"

"That's no excuse." I angrily snarled.

"I know! I already know. And I'm sorry about what I said, I took it too far."

"Too far?" I said a little too loudly. I tried to hush my voice down. "Too far…?" I repeated, "You crossed boundaries, man."

"I know. I know I can't apologize that for that, but I'm going to try. I'm sorry about what I said, and I'm sorry I took it as far as I did."

I sighed.

"I figured you weren't going to forgive me, but can we at least agree to be civil?"

I arched a brow, interested.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes focusing in on mine. "No more angry glares, no more fighting, let's just agree to be civil."

"Civil, you say?" I repeated, pressing my lips together tightly.

He nodded.

My eyes rolled upwards in a quizzical matter, as if seeking the right answers from a higher power. I sighed, "Fine." I held a hand out.

"Really?"

"Yes, water under the bridge."

"What bridge…?" His quizzical face got even more confusing.

"Never mind," I shook my head, "Just take my damn hand before I change my mind."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips, and he placed is giant hand in my small one. He shook it violently, and I let out a silent 'ow' before dropping my head and trudging the other way. I gave Newt a small nod, bolstering him that I was sanction.

He did a small head tilt back, and then turned back to my former roommate/best friend.

"Florence!" Jeff shouted from beside me, as I walked past him and a few boys who were hitting sticks on their hand-made drums. "Come here, take a seat."

I obliged to his words, stumbling towards a small stool between him and Clint.

"Little too much to drink Florence?" Clint chuckled.

I shook my head, beaming with a large smile. "Not enough."

Clint chuckled again, and held out his jar of alcohol to me. "Drink up, then."

I snatched the glass from his hands, spilling some on myself because of the rapid movements. "Oops," I shrugged. I pressed the jar to my lips and swallowed the rest of it down.

"Slow down, Slinthead!" Jeff nudged me, "You're going to get sick."

I dropped the glass beside me on the dewy grass and gulped. My head was already spinning. My body started to sway back and forth a little bit, and I locked my hands together, dropping them in my lap as I watched Jeff's make-shift drumsticks pound against the drum. Its noises pulsated in the air, and it actually sounded pretty cool with everyone's hooting, along with the crackling fire and the low hum of chatter.

I giggled as Clint spoke to me. He was telling me about a prank Chuck had played on Jeff where he had got some dead meat from Winston and pretended he was bleeding and chopped off a limb.

Clint was in on it and he couldn't stop laughing when he saw Jeff nearly faint.

"It wasn't funny," Jeff huffed.

I smiled, hiccupping from the amount of alcohol I had indulged.

"Probably my best prank yet," Chuck announced, nodding his head in pride as he placed his hands on his hips.

I was startled by his entrance, and his eavesdropping, but I couldn't resist standing up and leaning over to tousle his head of dark curls.

"Hey, slim it!" He hissed, but I didn't.

I hooked an arm around his neck, and forced our bodies to hunch over. I noogied his head so hard, my knuckles were stating to hurt.

My eyes were tearing up from all the laughter and Chuck just giggled and repeatedly yelled, "Cut it out!" as he tried to escape from my death grip.

When I finally let him go, I started to stumble. My vision blurred and my world rocked beneath my feet. My slump posture elaborated itself, and I felt like I had somersaulted, but really I had staggered straight into the fight circle, and bumped into Gally, who was fighting another glader, one of the cooks, with a chagrined expression

"What the hell?!" Gally pivoted, his muscles tensed.

The red face, the narrow eyes, the drawn lips… Gally was not happy. His infuriating demeanor relaxed the slightest when he noticed it was me, but he was still barmy.

I hiccupped, my body lurching up. "Sssssoooory Gally."

"Move, Florence." He barked, a tone I hadn't heard him use with me before.

"Hey," Thomas shot up from where he was, which was beside Newt. "Don't talk to her like that."

Gally cocked his head.

Oh boy. Here we go.

Newt face palmed himself.

"What was that Greenie? Are you standing up to me?" His jaw clenched, as well as his fists, and he pushed the Glader he was previously dueling aside, to face Thomas.

"Y-Yeah," Thomas stuttered, aware of the attention on him now, "I uh… I guess I am. Yeah. Don't treat her like that. She's drunk; she doesn't know what she's doing. It's a party; we're here to have fun."

"I'm not drunk," I pouted sourly.

Minho snorted in disagreement behind me, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

Gally was caustic in his challenging. "Hey, Greenie, get in the circle." He gestured towards the fight pit. Now that Thomas had interfered with the fight circle, he had to play. And if I knew Gally as well as I thought I did, he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Uh," He laughed nervously, "He-he, no… I'm alright." He pushed away the offer physically with his hands.

"No, come on greenie," Gally's eyes pulled together menacingly, and he grinned. "What do you say?" He asked with a more fastidious tone "Wanna see what you're made of?"

"Gally,_ s-t-t-t-top_." I protested, my words slightly slurring.

Minho approached me, taking a close place beside me. Our arms grazed together and even that minor contact made me feel like I was going to topple over. Minho grabbed me with one arm, steadying me. "Maybe it's best if you don't say anything…" He suggested in a whisper, the bottom corner of his lip pulling done in a diminutive grimace.

"Greenie… greenie… greenie…" Marcus started to chant, making me despise him a little bit more then I already did.

"Greenie," everyone started to chant along, and before you know it, everyone was shouting "GREENIE, GREENIE, GREENIE!" their fist pumping in the air to the same beat of the mantra.

I even started chanting, although I didn't know why.

Minho smacked my arm, giving me a discerning look.

My brain was just fuzzy and I feel like I was already forgetting part of tonight's events. I forgot that I was on Thomas' side. I giggled to myself, beaming, and Minho shot me a partially aghast and partially bemused look.

I shrugged, grinning, and he rolled his eyes in return, a smile hidden on his face.

The whole crowd started cheering and screaming, clapping along.

"It's probably best if I just stay.. outside… of the circle," He laughed nervously again. Another builder, Nash I think his name was, shoulder checked Thomas, and he staggered towards the circle.

Thomas tried to straighten himself out, before he scanned his surroundings. It was clear he hadn no choice now. He was in the circle, and Gally was impatiently waiting with folded arms.

With one last wavering chance, I cupped a hand around my mouth to protest against Gally. "Leave him aaaalone! He didn't do nuthin'!"

Minho snaked an arm around my waist, and moved his other arm up to my face. His hand covered my mouth and I mumbled into it. "Slim, it, Florence, before he invites you in the circle."

I licked his hand, he contiguously dropped his hold on me, exchanging a judicious look with me.

I smiled in triumph, my eyes squinting together.

The fight quickly ensued, and Gally had already taken the lead.

Thomas quickly face-planted the floor, and Gally quickly regained his joyous manner. Well… his version of a joyous manner, which was succeeding over others in a violent form.

When Thomas stood again, Gally rubbed his hands together, preparing himself to instigate another beating. He shoved Thomas hard in the chest, and Thomas flew back, exhaling all the air that as in his lungs from the blow.

Thomas fell back against Clint, Ben, and Veer, who caught him and propelled him back towards Gally.

His lips quivered, and he hesitated before charging for Gally. Once again, he was thrown to the floor and everyone "Oooooh!"ed in pity for the new Glader. The sweat beading down his forehead stuck to the sand on the floor of the fight pit.

Thomas spat out a mouthful of the gritty substance in his mouth, coughing slightly.

"C'mon Greenie. We're not done yet," Gally arrogantly spat. He kicked his feet against the sand, moving back to give Thomas unneeded room.

I glanced over to Newt, who was intently watching the setting. His arms were folded neatly across his chest, and his face was apathetic of the situation. He huffed a small laugh when Thomas casually said "Stop calling me that." And Gally replied with, "What do you want to be called? Shank?"

"Does he look like a Shank?" Gally addressed to no one in particular, gyrating the perimeter of the circle as Thomas prepared to charge again. He did, and failed miserably.

"You know what?" I think I've settled on Shank," He enlightened the crowd.

There was another small eruption of laughter, along with chatter.

Thomas lunged for his competitor again, placing his head underneath Gally's arm and wrapping both arms around his waste. His feet kicked against the sand, digging small holes into the dirt. Gally actually had to put up a fight this time.

Miraculously, a change of events had occurred, and Gally fell to the floor, his face flushed red with anger.

"OOOOO!" The crowd cheered, small hoots of endearment breaking out in the crowd.

"Not bad for a Greenie huh…?" Thomas's confidence boating was cut off by Gally swinging his legs, tripping Thomas.

Thomas fell to the floor, his head roughly smacking against the ground.

The crowd booed, and I booed with them, and Thomas coughed. He spat up a mouthful of saliva, and tried to pick himself up.

"Okay!" I shouted, "Enouugghhhh!" I tried to push my way into the circle. Thomas had recuperated and he looked geared up to defy his adversary again, just as Gally did. I pressed a firm hand on both of their chests, although my strength couldn't do anything.

"She's right," Alby agreed, speaking up between Newt and Clint. "No more fighting for tonight."

Most of the crowd groaned or 'aww'-ed in disappointment, but there was few like me, who were ecstatic about the ban of violence. I sauntered back over to my previous spot outside of the violent circle of sand.

"Have to admit," Minho leaned closer to me, "Greenie put up one hell of a fight. Alby wouldn't have called it off if he didn't think it would end badly."

I snickered.

"Florence, take a walk with me?" At first I thought that voice came from Minho, and I was kind of weirded out, but when I turned around to see Newt, I grinned.

He was slowly limping tomorrow, a hint of a smile upon his lips.

"Newt!" I squealed ecstatically. A boost of poise came over me and I started to sprint towards him. When I got closer, I leapt off the soil and latched onto him like a koala. I swung one leg on each side of him and wrapped both arms around his shoulders.

He swung me around in a circle, letting out a small 'oh!' and a chuckle.

My hair flailed in both of our faces, but it didn't even bother me. I just kept giggling.

"You're drunk," He chuckled into my shoulder.

I lifted my head up, brushing the hair out of my face. I pouted tartly again. "Why does everybody keep saaaaaying that."

He pivoted, walking away from the party, me still glued to him. "Because you are," he laughed.

I rolled my eyes.

Our bodies bounced up and down as we slowly limped towards the forest.

Minho was watching us, arms folded, but with a content smile.

I smiled back at him.

Not wanting to cause Newt's leg trouble, I de-latched from him, letting out a small groan as I did so. He sniggered at my drunken actions, although I didn't feel that drunk. I shoved my hands in my pocket, watching Newt as we walked. His eyes were ahead of us, gazing at the dark forest we were nearing.

"So why'd you want to take a walk?" I curled my lips inwards and out, repeating the same action a few times.

I smiled devilishly, "I was just keeping you from embarrassing yourself," He winked.

My mouth fell open in an implausible matter, but I still sported a slight smile. I shook my head, and checked his shoulder with mine. Unfortunately, being induced with alcohol, I lost my balance and almost face-planted the floor.

He caught me before that happened. His head, for the thousandth time, was shaking side to side in reply to my actions.

"Oh!" He perked up, "Look what Alby found in The Box." He dug a hand in his pocket and shoveled for an object. When he pulled it out, he tossed it to me before I even caught a glimpse of what it was.

I caught the object with both hands, surprising both Newt and I, and looked at it. It was an inhaler. "Sweet," I smiled deeply at it before tossing it in my pocket and turning back to Newt, who was grinning also.

When we finally entered the thick foliage, and strolled through the small path that meandered through the forest, a memory popped into my head. And it wasn't from before I entered the maze; it was from a few weeks ago when I had overhead Newt chatting to Minho.

This boy liked me; at least, from what I heard I assumed he liked me.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a shaky hand, my drunken confidence slowly fading.

My lip quivered from the nerves, and I wrapped my arms around myself.

"You alright?" His accented voice rang in my ears.

"Yeah," I nodded, giving him a closed lipped smile.

"You sure? You're all quite now." One brow rose high in the air.

"Just scared of the dark," I gave him a half-hearted laugh, which was quite because of how nervous I had suddenly got.

"Don't worry, I'll protect ya. I'm your own personal body guard, remember?" he teased

I rolled my eyes, letting out a small chuckle.

"Besides, the only monster in the glade is Minho." He forced a shiver. "God, have you seen his bloody face? Worse than a shuck griever who got slaughtered."

I sniggered at his comment, throwing my head back.

We briefly walked in silence, the cold air electrifying around us.

"You know what I thought of today?"

"What?" I asked, turning my head towards him.

"I thought about the second day you were here, when I first heard you talk in your sleep." He told me.

"Hold up," I stopped him, raising a hand. "I talk in my sleep?"

He nodded, kicking the ground with his foot as he smiled.

"And what do say?" I raised my brows in concern as we started walking again.

"Well, besides the times you're screaming from night terrors, you're usually murmuring nonsense. You've said a few names, un-recognizable. One was Janson, another was Alistair."

Alistair? I didn't even know who that was.

"And you said my name before."

I froze.

"I did?"

"Yep" He gave me a cheeky smile, nodding his head over-exuberantly as he turned to stop in front of me. "In fact, the nights you d sleep, you say it almost every night."

"Oh really?" I asked, more suspicious of his words now.

"Yes ma'am," He chuckled, "You confessed your love for me, told me you bloody worshiped me. Pretty weird, actually."

"Oh shut up, ya Slinthead!" I shoved him hard in the chest and he staggered away, snickering like an idiot.

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the smile that was forming on my lips as we continued to walk.

"Anyways, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me—" He joked.

"One more comment like that and I'll throw you to the grievers, Newty. Don't test me," I gave him a close-lipped smile, poking the middle of his chest with my finger.

"I'd like to see you try," he countered.

Before he could even finish, I lunged for him. Reenacting the move Thomas played on Gally earlier; I lunged underneath Newt's armpit and wrapped my two arms around his waist.

"Oof!" He laughed, hardly fazed by all the strength I was using. He just laughed, and I grunted as I tried to push him, which only made him snicker more.

When his hands started to tickle my sides, I immediately retracted, trying to stiff the giggle.

He wrapped an arm around me and tried to tickle me again, but I ducked underneath him and sprinted off in the other direction, once I was far enough to realize he wasn't following me, Is tuck my tongue out at him.

He placed both hands on his hips, chuckling and shaking his head.

I smiled devilishly, and place one arm on a tree as I swung around it and started sprinting again.

I could hear his familiar limping footsteps behind me as I dodged trees, running full speed through the forest as he attempted to catch me. The cold air felt cool on my face, and the breeze was nice. It was like an icy hand brushing my hair out my face.

I giggled as I dodged trees, hearing Newt chuckle behind me.

Just when I thought I had lost him, an overwhelming feeling took over. I slowed as I felt something surge from my gut and move to my throat.

"Oh no," I muttered before it happened.

I started into another sprint, this time towards Newt. I held a hand to my mouth as I felt the bile fill my mouth. I almost slammed into a worried Newt, but luckily I dodged him last second. I ran to the bathroom, luckily making it just in time for me to empty my mouth.

I tried to hold the hair out of my face, but it was difficult. I had so much damn hair.

I continually heaved, astounded at how much was coming out of me. I wasn't _that _drunk. Now that I thought about it, I had skipped dinner and the only thing I ate all day was a bowl of oatmeal. Lack of food plus copious amounts of alcohol equals bad mix…

I heard footsteps enter the washroom, and I internally groaned.

"Don't come in here!" I moaned between gags.

Ignoring my request, Newt opened the wooden stall.

"Go away," I tried to plead, as more vomit exited my body.

"Yeah, sure, I'll leave you here while you puke Florence, that's definitely the respectable thing to do in this situation." He mocked sarcastically.

If I could roll my eyes at him, like I usually did, I would, but I was incapable of multitasking.

Instead of listening to me, he kneeled beside me. He pulled all the hair out of my face and held it like a ponytail in his hand.

I puked for another minute, and I dry heaved for two more, until finally, my body couldn't take the backwards peristalsis. I collapsed against the cold bathroom floor and sighed.

"uhhhh…" I groaned, wiping my mouth with tissue.

He snorted.

"S'not funny," I frowned, still feeling nauseous.

He chuckled again.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, slouching back against the stall as I closed my eyes. "You didn't have to do that."

"Bloody hell I did." He said sternly, his eyes pouring into mine. "Don't want you to ruin your hair. That's the only thing you got going for you."

"Newt!" I slapped his knee, and he chuckled again.

I don't think I had ever seen him laugh so much in one night.

When I was ready, I walked over to the small, terribly made sinks, and washed my mouth out.

It was dark in the bathroom, considering we had no lanterns, but somehow Newt's dark eyes were still luminating. God, I was grossing myself out with all the cheesy stuff Newt made me feel.

We walked out of the bathroom in silence, and we had just returned to the party in time for everything to be shut down. Just like last time, Captain Alby dictated us to sleep because of work tomorrow.

I heard Chuck's load groan first, and eventually the other Gladers joined him.

Newt and I stood closely beside each other as the Gladers passed us. Chuck was stomping his feet as he overtook us, while Minho was wiggling his eyebrows at Newt.

Veer, who was incredibly drunk now, screamed my name as he lifted a full glass in the air. He spilt the liquid on Jeff, who was frowning now, and Clint just chortled.

Alby, being the stern guy he was, wore the same slight frown. Although, his frown deepened when he saw Newt and I return.

Thomas waved a hand in the air and called Newt's name as he neared us.

I could not handle Thomas again, so while avoiding confrontation with him, I told Newt I'd see him later in bed. "Uhhh…" I made a face when I said the words. "That did not come out as I wanted it too." I grimaced.

Thomas gave us an odd look, while Newt tried to hide a smile.

"Aghh.." I groaned, deciding to just desert the situation.

I walked back to my room, glancing back once two see the newly formed best friends behind me.

When I get to my room, I quickly changed into the pants I had arrived in the box in, and stole a sweatshirt of Newts. I had never worn any of Newt's other clothes before, but it was cold tonight, and I felt gross from earlier.

I wrapped the blanket around me like a burrito, and just as I was about to sit on the hammock, Newt walked in.

I made an 'o' shape with my mouth.

Newt gave me a polite smile while he shut the door quietly.

"You and Tommy have a nice talk?" I asked, sitting on the hammock like a swing, rocking it back and forth.

"Hey, I like that name. That's a good fit for him," he commented before answering my question. "But, yeah, actually. I like the Greenie."

I nodded, giving him a crooked smile. "So should I be worried that my newtie pattotie is going to be taken away from me!"

"Don't you ever bloody call me that again." He scolded while he walked over to his sleeping bag to a grab a shirt. "And why? Jealous, love?"

I bit my lip nervously. He had never called me that before, at least, the only time he had called me that was when I was having a night terror once.

As if it were the most casual thing ever, he slipped off his shirt. Once again, I couldn't help but gawk at him.

"Maybe," I replied a little too late.

He let out a barely-audible snort as he slipped another shirt on.

"So why are you avoiding the Greenie?" he asked, turning back to me, "You're acting like Minho."

My face contorted at his words. "Does Minho not like Greenie's?"

He shook his head, "He prefers not to interact with them until they've spent at least a week here. Although, I think Minho will like this one. He's curious, keeps asking to be a runner."

That didn't surprise me. Thomas was always eager to be an overachiever.

"It's not that I don't like Thomas…" I started, "Don't get me wrong. The Greenie's great, I'm just… I don't know, nervous."

I didn't know what else to say to Newt without him being suspicious, or without me getting another brain-wracking migraine again. Thomas, in a way, did make me nervous. He was my best friend. Now he was a completely different person. Well, he seemed like it. I know he was the same person inside, and I knew once I warmed up to him all would be well again, but I just didn't want to push myself too far and get more upset over old-Thomas than I needed to.

"Nervous? Got a bloody crush on him or something?" He questioned.

"No," I laughed causally, "It's just… ah— it's hard to explain." That was one hell of an understatement.

I let my head drop, and I bit the dead skin off my lip as my hair curtained my face.

I curled my lips when I raised my eyes to meet his, and he was much closer now.

He made a funny face, and an awkward tension arose itself in the room.

"Oh," Newt murmured.

"What?" I asked, batting my eyelashes.

"You umm... You got an eyelash on your face." Newt's eyes darted all over my face, before finally averting.

"Oh really?" I asked, feeling my warm breath ricochet off of his. I used my pointer finger to swipe underneath my eye a few times, my eyes rolling upwards as I did.

"Still there."

I tried again, and blinked a few times to clear my vision when I was finished.

"Still there— uh. Let me try." He placed himself on the hammock, and we both sat across from each other, our knees touching. He liked his lips, like he was preparing himself for some major task, and lifted his thumb up to my face.

His thumb lightly grazed my right cheekbone, way further down then where I was swabbing. He swiped a few times, and I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks, which was a perfect way to conceal the blush that was rising to my cheeks because of the contact Newt made with my skin; which, evidently, made me more nervous than ever.

My heart was beating a mile a minute; I was almost scared he could hear it.

"Boy, that sucker's really on there, eh?" He said, overly British as usual. He licked his thumb, to obtain better grip, and pressed his thumb harder against my skin. "Bloody hell," He murmured in frustration, and I smiled when I saw his brows pull together. "Got it," he smiled in triumph, lifting his thumb up to show me the eyelash.

"Make a wish," I grinned, folding my leg's Indian style.

He beamed, and then closed his eyes as he blew the eyelash off of his finger.

"Whad'ya wish for?"

"Can't tell ya, shank, or it won't come true." He gave me a defiant smile, his cheeks rising high on his face.

I laughed at his response, dropping my head. My hair draped over my face, and I blinked rapidly as a strand of hair got caught in my eyelashes. "Stupid long hair," I murmured as I lifted my head, attempting to push it away from my face.

Newt raised his hand, and in one swift moment, he leisurely brushed the hair back. As cliché as it was, time seemed to stop momentarily as our eyes met and my hair was pushed further back. There was intensity between us that felt good.

We both remained expressionless as his hand finally dropped from my head.

We were silent, until I decided to ruin the moment.

"You did not just do that," I criticized.

His face was taken aback. "Do what?"

"That was so cliché!" I disparaged him. "I can't believe you just did that. It was like we were in some romantic comedy, where the two protagonists are oblivious of each other's undying love for each other , or an inanity story line where the boy is in love with his neighbor, and they grow up together and his crush never dies, but she dates other people and keeps recycling boyfriends but then she finally realizes she likes him but it's too late. I mean come on! Really Newt? The platitude in that was unbelievable!"

At first, his eyes were wide and shocked at my babbling, but then they alleviated and the corners of his lips drew up.

"What?" I asked, responding to the funny look he gave me.

"Nuthin'," He shook his head, leaning closer to me, hands folded in lap. "Just wondering how these so called 'romantic movies' end."

"But I can't spoil it for you."

"Well then demonstrate it for me."

"Again with the dullness! So expected."

"Well how do they end, then?" He smirked.

The smile made my heart pound in my chest, and I found myself moving closer to him as well. The only light was from the small candle that was placed on the chair beside the hammock, and it highlighted just the right portions of Newt's face.

"Well, it goes one of either two ways."

"Alright," He nodded.

"Either the couple fights about how one of them should have said something, and they don't talk for years but reunite way later in the movie, or they endure in some kind of circumstance where they're forced to spend time together, and then they realize the romance."

"And then what happens?" He pushed, leaning so close I could feel his warm breath on my lips.

My eyes darted from his lips, back to his eyes. "And then, they replicate something similar to we are now."

"Then?" He raised a cocky brow.

"They lean in, painfully slow might I add, and they get closer and closer…" I whispered, just as he positioned his hand against my face, his thumb in front of my ear, while his fingers were curled around my neck, "And finally, they kis—"

His lips latched onto mine, fitting perfectly like puzzle pieces, and fireworks went off. Again, with the cliché-ness. It poured out everything we had been veiling the past few weeks. It felt good to finally have something enjoyable happen in this hell-hole.

And let me tell you: It was exactly like a Nicholas Sparks movie.

* * *

**A/N: i hope this chapter doesn't suck... Thanks for the reviews from HarleyHolmes, boggeledgalaxy, Guest, Yo, and InvisibleSoul4. Please leave reviews and let me know your thoughts! Just a heads up: just because they kissed doesn't mean it's an insta-love now! **

_**IMPORTANT: **** It has been brought to my attention through PM's that a love triangle would be interesting, and from what I'm plotting for future chapters, and even The Scorch Trials, Thomas and Florence are going to have to get close. So what do you guys think? I'm taking a poll!**_


	15. Memories

**A/N: It's unanimous! No love triangle, thanks for your input. I'd be terrible at writing it anyway... A heads up: Italics is past tense.**

* * *

I jolted out of bed covered in a cold sweat, heart pounding, and ears ringing. After a sharp gasp, and a realization of where I was, my previously wide eyes relaxed. I rubbed the sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my sweater and took a calming breath to soothe myself.

Those green eyes… so vivid, so menacing; bright and mesmerizing, like fireflies, or a flame. I was about to have my brain sliced open in my dream again but this time it was different. The man with green eyes just stared at me, like something was wrong. His eyes were fixed on mine, and mine on his, and we just poured into each other.

It wasn't exactly a nightmare, but none of it made sense. These dreams had to mean something.

Still heavily breathing, I turned my head around, like an owl, in search for Newt. He was no longer in the room, and judging by the light in the sky and his absence, I assumed he was showing Thomas the grievers.

My breathing policed after a minute, and I took one last inhale to regulate my body.

Just thinking of his name made my heart skip a beat.

Last night, we had kissed. And as much as I enjoyed it and wanted to do it again, it was wrong, for many reasons. Alby wouldn't be impressed, and neither would WICKED. My job is to be a variable for the gladers, at least, that's what I assumed.

But I couldn't help it! The softness of his lips, the lingering taste he left, and the way our lips molded against one another. I felt like I was in high school and I had some massive crush on a boy.

After the kiss was the best part though.

_Our lips pulled apart, briefly, before he pecked me again, but then finally for good._

_Our heads floated softly away from each other, our lips still pursed, but with the hint of a smile on both of us. I had to bite my lip from the smile that madly tried to flee. I dropped my head after I felt the rush of blood to my cheeks._

_And Newt didn't laugh; he simply just exhaled through his nostrils, and pushed my hair back in one swift notion, just as he did before. My smile grew, but my eyes remained on my hands that were fiddling nervously._

_With two fingers, he lifted my chin again. I pursed my lips, moving towards him again._

_"GROSS. GROSS GROSS GROSS."_

_Both of our heads whipped towards the door. Minho was standing there, in his pajamas, looking tired as ever, might I add. He was shaking his head, scowling at us. _

_A smirk rose to my lips, and Newt let out a chuckle._

_"God, Newt. You asked me to come to your room after I had washed up to talk. Here I am. Was this a set up or something? Trying to gross me the shuck out? Because you succeeded, Slinthead." He growled, fisting his eye because of the fatigue. He made a fake gagging gesture, then shook his head from side to side before trudging down the hallway to his room. "Stupid shanks…"_

_Newt chuckled louder, and I joined him, smiling out of pure enjoyment now. I shut the door, and then moved back into the hammock with him._

_He lay on his back, his arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He started humming a tune, one I didn't recognize. Probably one of the tunes the gladers made for bonfires like tonight when they played music…_

_I tried to resist the fatigue that tried so desperately to pull me under unconsciousness, but it was so difficult. I curled up beside Newt, and eventually he wrapped his arms around me. We had never made contact like this in a romantic way, only a comforting way when it was needed for my night continued to hum, and eventually I shifted my arms close to my chest, My head laying on the middle of his chest, and we just laid there, our legs twisted together, until we slipped into oblivion._

I closed my eyes, reminiscing in the unforgettable memory. I would think of this when all hell broke loose. I would think of this night.

Part of me wanted nothing to do with Newt, to protect him from me and WICKED's cruelties, but the other part of me was so glued to him that it was near impossible to detach us. When he found out I was part of WICKED and I had my memories, he would hate me. I would hate me. But I couldn't bring myself to ditch the British boy with the limp that I watched for so long via the eyes of a beetle blade.

I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

For now, I just had to listen to Alby's number one rule. Do my part.

* * *

Thomas gave me a small wave as he passed by me with Alby, who was chatting to him more about the Glade and its secrets. I gave him a nod and a polite, but shaky, smile.

"Florence," Alby addressed me with a bow of the head.

"Alby," I tackled back, nodding as well.

I made my way to the Med-Jack hut, but not before scanning each gladers face in sign for Newt. Once I concluded there was no sign of him, I ambled into the hut. Jeff was in there, patching up a cut on Ben's knee.

"You just miss us that much that you purposely have to hurt yourself to see us, huh Benny?"I placed both hands on my hips and gave Ben a smile.

"Yeah," He replied, not even a small smile appearing. That was unusual behavior for Ben.

"How'd you get that guy?" I pointed to the large gash across his knee.

"I… fell." He sputtered out.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why'd you say it like that?"

"Say it like what?"

"Like you're lying. Or like you're not sure if you actually fell…" My brows pulled together.

"I… I don't know. I'm just tired." His eyes rapidly darted all over the room.

Jeff and I exchanged an odd look. "You okay Benny?" I asked, ruffling his hair.

He gave me a pondering look, like he had to think about whether he was okay or not. He tapped his finger against his chin briefly, then bobbed his head up and down "Yep, yep I'm okay."

"Alright, you're all cleaned up." Jeff dusted his hands off on each other and rose to his feet, putting away his supplies.

"Thanks Jeff," He dipped his head in respect, then darted out of the room.

As soon as he was out of ears reach I shot a thumb over my shoulder. "That wasn't weird to you?"

Jeff nodded, "Definitely weird. He's been acting strange since yesterday afternoon, when he came back from his run with Minho."

"Hmm," I licked my lips, "Maybe Minho knows what's up."

"Maybe," Jeff agreed as he put the scraps of the bandage in a small garbage can beside me.

I shrugged imperturbably, and traipsed out the hut. I didn't look where I was going, just let my feet take me wherever. It wasn't a terrible day in the glade, but the sky was overcast and there was a slight chill. I still had Newt's sweater from last night, and I refused to take it off, being cold being one of the many reasons. It also smelled good; like campfire and the earth, very fresh.

Speak of the devil, he was waving me over to the Gardens where he was chatting with Zart, leaning against a wooden structure.

"Hey, Florence!" His face perked up slightly at my presence.

I changed my course and wandered towards them.

"Hey Newt," I smiled back, "Zart," I greeted with a dip of my head.

"Florence," He retorted with a smile.

"How are you feeling after last night?" Newt asked with an innocent smile.

My eyes opened wide and my mouth had the inability to speak. Should we really speak about this around Zart?

"I meant from the alcohol…" His eyes fell downcast, avoiding my sight.

"Oh!" I awkwardly came to realization, "Oh… Yeah. I'm fine. Good. Better than ever," I gave him a double thumbs up.

"Nice," He nodded slowly, letting his head bob up and down.

"Yeahhhh…" I uttered, curling my lips over my teeth.

He gave me another small smile, before grabbing a shovel that was next to him and digging a small hole in the ground.

I couldn't help but feel some sort of uncomfortable tension between us. It most definitely had to do with last night. Now neither of us would talk about it, and we would wait for the other one to bring it up. Maybe that was for the better! Maybe we would forget about it and I wouldn't have to crush him with the news when it finally came out. I knew I couldn't tell them while I was still in the maze, because they physically weren't letting me, and even if I did find some way, they would find a way to punish me for it.

"Where is that shuck-face?" Newt dug his shovel into the ground, then rested an arm on top of the handle while placing a foot on the corner of the shovel.

"What shuck-face?" I asked, "Minho? I need to talk to Minho."

"No, Tommy." He corrected, his eyes suspiciously narrowing when I said I needed to speak with his best friend, "I sent him to get fertilizer in the Deadheads ten minutes ago. He hasn't come back yet."

"Hmm," I nodded, again, awkwardly.

I was just about to stalk off towards the runners hut, when Newt's voice stopped me. "Can you go look for him?"

I turned around, stunned, and also kind of anxious. "M-Me?" I pointed to myself.

"Yes, you."

"Why can't you?"

"Why can't you?" he repeated.

"I… guess I can—"

"Good," He replied with a triumphant smile.

I started gnawing my lip, and I pivoted before re-routing towards the woodland. I took my sweet ass time getting there, preparing myself to actually have to face Thomas. I rolled down my sleeves, pulling over my hands as I entered the brisk forest, where dew still trickled from the tops of the trees. Still biting my lip, I turned my head in search for the familiar mop of short brown hair Thomas had.

"Thomas?" I said aloud, walking deeper in the forest.

I made my way to the deadheads, but saw no sign of him.

"Thomas?" I called out again, pausing in front of a grave stone.

"Over here," Someone hollered back. I gazed past the headstones, observing as Thomas stood in front of a lone grave a few feet away from me; it was unbelievable how I had botched to spot him.

He was frowning slightly, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the grave of one of the deceased gladers. I watched as he scanned his surroundings, first looking at the graves, and then the flies, and then the leaf-covered ground where a few bones protruded from the dirt.

His eyes widened, his brows still sewn together, and he straightened his posture.

"It's a graveyard," I explained, "A terrible one, at that."

"Hmm" He hummed, turning back to face me with a full bucket of klunk, a shovel in his other hand. He made an odd face at me, awaiting my explanation as to why I'd fetched him.

I pointed a thumb over my shoulder. "They uh... they want you back."

He nodded, and I pivoted as he started to walk beside me.

We walked uncomfortably close to each other for two people who had just 'met' each other, but I didn't mind all that much.

It was hard looking at his face and knowing that the last time I saw him, he was crushed because he had failed to help me when I was abducted and thrown into the maze in the middle of the night. I just kept walking in silence, side by side with him. I had forgotten how much taller than me he was.

He broke our three minute silence record with a question. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," I urged him.

He slowed to a stop, and I joined him a foot away. He set down his bucket and his shovel, and then started to scratch his head. "Do you not like me or something?"

Well, I wasn't expecting that…

"What makes you say that?" I countered the question with another question, placing my hands inside the sweater's pocket.

Thomas rolled his eyes, as if to prepare himself for the long ramble he was about to endure in. "Well, first of all: You avoid me like I have the freaking plague or something,"

I snickered quietly.

"You don't talk to me, and I know I haven't been here that long but everyone seems to like me, or at least semi-like me, except for you." He elucidated, "Well, and Gally."

I snickered again.

"Well?" He asked, waiting for my reply. There was something about the way he folded his arms across his puffed chest, and the way he raised his bushy eyebrows in a stern matter. My face contorted as I felt the sadness rush through me. My heart sank into the bottom of my chest, and I dropped my head, sniffing as my nose started to run. I kicked the dirt with my feet and watched as it made a cloud, floating away in the air.

"Oh, dammit, did I say something?" Thomas put a hand on my shoulder, "Are you okay? What did I say?"

I raised my eyes to meet his and I felt even more depressed. My wistful face must have shown more than I thought because he went completely bug-eyed.

My nose scrunched up as I sniffed again, and I felt the tiniest amount of tears pool in my eyes, making the bottom half of my vision a blur.

"Florence, I'm sorry. What did I say?" He lightly shook my shoulder.

"Nothing," I tried to smile, "You didn't say anything."

"Then why are you sad right now?" he questioned.

I stared at him, blinking, trying to sort through my mind for the right answer to respond with, and all I could think about was that photo. Klunk, I knew I was going to regret this, but what the hell. I had repeatedly dreamed about Thomas, so it had to mean something.

I fished my pocket for the familiar feeling of photo paper, and I pulled it out, unfolding it as I sniffled again.

"What's that..?" He muttered as I continued to unfold it. It was facing me at first, so I turned it upside down and then handed him the aged photo.

His glazed expression remained on the photo for just under a minute, his appearance the same.

"I know this is kind of a shot in the dark here, but do you remember this?" I asked hopefully.

He blinked a few times, before his eyes rose to mine, and he gulped, placing the snapshot back in my hands. "No. I don't." he replied in a tone that wasn't decipherable.

I shut my eyes, feeling the wave of sadness rush over me like a broken dam again. "Okay," my voice came out as a whimper. I shoved the photo back in my pocket."Thought so."

"They said no one remembered anything, that we all had no memories."He didn't quite look mad, but he didn't appear to be happy. Confused, maybe?

I had really shucked up. Why did I show him that? In fact, if WICKED was controlling my brain, why did they let me show him that? There was a weird connection Thomas and I had, that WICKED seemed to want to work with. Thomas was always their favorite, maybe I had to influence his Killzone somehow.

"If you're the same Thomas you used to be, then you'd know you can trust me. And I know I could trust you." My lips tightened into a line, and my brows grew apart in a pleading matter, hoping that Thomas wouldn't spoil my secret. A week ago, I would have wanted him too, but after much though, I decided I didn't want anyone knowing until we were out of that maze. After receiving that photo from the maze with Thomas, Teresa and I's face scratched out, with the warning: 'Don't let them find out' I concluded that they wouldn't hesitate to hurt the people I now loved to spite me.

"Who's the girl on the left?"

"Teresa," I replied, "We were roommates. Best friends, actually."

"How come you remember everything and I don't?" He raised his voice.

"Keep your voice down," I hushed him with a gesture, "I'll tell you what I know, but I don't know much."

He frowned, contemplating something internally.

"Deal?" I asked.

"Deal"

* * *

We were sitting far from the Deadheads now. We sat on a large boulder that overhung the small lake, just past the hill before the runner's hut, which was completely out of view. My feet dangled over the edges, while Thomas feet were stiff and unmoving.

"I don't know a lot." I told him, "You knew the most. You were there favorite."

"Who's favorite?"

"WICKED."

"The Creators?" He simplified.

I nodded. "They took me, in the middle of the night; which is unheard of. They didn't insert the Swipe like they did with you guys, just shoved me into the shucking box."

Thomas twitched at my glader slang, but his face softened the more I opened up to him. "What's the Swipe? Can we get rid of it?"

"It's what makes you guys forget your memories. You can only get rid of it through surgery."

His face contorted, and he shook his head. "But I still don't understand. Why do you have memories and I don't?"

I shrugged, "Neither do I. I thought maybe you'd remember something from before The Swipe and be able to tell me, but just as I expected you didn't."

He gave me a sorry look, the corner of his lip quirking as his eyes fell. "Why haven't you told Alby and them?"

"I can't tell them—"

"Why not?" he interrupted, appearing mad.

"I can't tell them, Thomas." I gestured with my hands, placing one hand in the other. "I mean, I physically can't. Every time I've tried, I get this terrible migraine, and I can't speak. I'm tongue-tied. It's hard to explain…"

"What If I tell them?" he pondered; his face lighting up.

I shook my head. "I thought about that but it's not safe. They've threatened me, and I don't want any casualties because of my actions. Can I trust you not to tattle?"

His lips parted, and his forestalled mine. I was nervous in that moment, afraid I had made a mistake explaining things to him, but when he snapped back and gave me a gentle smile, I unwound. "Yes, you can."

"Good," I sighed happily, "Same old Thomas."

He chuckled happily at that.

"Tell me more," He pushed. "Do you know a way out? Why are we here? What are the grievers? How much longer are we going to be here?"

"Slow down," I laughed, "I don't know a way out. Like I said, I don't know much. All I know is they're studying you guys. Or… us, I guess. I'm a part of this now. That's all I can say, Thomas, really. I can already feel the headache." I clutched the right side of my head. "Whatever I'm saying is too much. They don't like it."

"Okay," He nodded, accepting my answers. "So I can't ask you why they're studying us?"

I grunted at the pang of pain on the right side of my head. I shook my head from side to side.

"Can I ask why they're letting you tell me but not the others?"

The headache started to fade, but there was still a lingering pain so I held my head in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees. "I don't know," I sighed frustratingly. "My theory is they want us to be close, for whatever reason. Maybe that's why they spontaneously dumped me in the maze, to get a reaction out of you."

"And I can't tell the others?" He asked again.

"Even if I wanted you to, I don't think they'd let you. They're watching all of us, spying on us."

Thomas made a disgusted face to show the violation he felt.

I nodded, my eyebrows raising. "Wanna know the worst part?"

"What?" he asked.

My eyes scanned the foliage, knowing that someone had to be watching me in order to initiate the migraine. When a flash of silver and red caught my eye, I turned my head to it. It was just behind Thomas, a few feet away. It scaled the tree, watching us. It didn't move when I pointed at it. "I created those things."

"Impressive," He smiled, turning to the creature.

"Thanks," I laughed, "But now I wished I'd hadn't. When I first entered the maze I think you tried to contact me through one of them, but something weird happened and it cut me," I showed him the pink scar across my palm, "I wish there was some way for you to tell me whether or not you did. I think it was you, I think you were trying to warn me."

"Sorry," He apologized.

I giggled at his apology, "No don't apologize. It's not your fault. It's WICKED's. Stupid, shucking WICKED."

"Yeah," he muttered.

I swung my legs, leaning to look over the overhang. The little lake beneath us had a small school of fish swimming in a circle. Funny, I never knew there were fish. They swam in a mesmerizing figure eight pattern.

"I guess we should head back, they'll be wondering where we are."

"I guess so," I concurred.

Thomas stood up, dusted his brown pants off, and then held his hands out to me. I took them, hoisting myself up with his weight.

"Thanks," I commented, starting our trek back to Newt and Zart.

"So did you know anyone before the maze besides me?"

"Chuck," I answered hesitantly, praying I didn't get another headache, "We were pretty close. I also knew Ben, not well though. And a few others," I replied, leaving out Aris, knowing they wouldn't allow me to speak about Group B.

"Were you and Newt together before the maze as well? Or…"

"Hold up," I paused our walk, placing my hand on his chest. "Together? Newt and I aren't together."

He tried to hide his smile, but did it poorly, "You sure?" He laughed.

"Pretty sure," I replied with an annoyed nod, continuing our walk.

He chuckled.

"Why do we look like we are?" I asked.

"HA!" he burst out, startling me. "Are you kidding me? You guys are attached at the hip. All he ever talks about is you. I know more about you then you know about you, trust me. In fact: I know more about you then I know about me."

A blush rose to my cheeks at the thought of Newt talking to Thomas about me.

"So are you together?" he asked again.

"No," I stuck my tongue out at him. "Maybe… I don't know it's complicated."

"Complicated eh?" he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes.

His laugh faded, and we trudged in silence momentarily.

"Well, it's good to know you don't hate me." He stated.

I grinned, "Yeah I don't. It was just sad thinking about the old you," I told him, "But you know what?"

"What?"

"I like the new you better," I poked him in the chest, and he gave me a gummy grin. I laughed.

My hearty laugh was interrupted by the snapping of a twig beside me. At first, I thought I was going insane but when the second twig snapped and Thomas' head turned towards it, I knew I wasn't.

There was another twig, behind us this time. Thomas and I turned in unison, and when I saw who it was I gasped.

Ben stood in front of us, veins practically bulging out of his skin, appearing as if they'd pop any second. He was drenched in his sweat. Spit started to foam out of his mouth. His pupils were dilated, and there was a deep purple ring around them. The band-aid on his knee from earlier was hanging by a small piece, and in place of the blood I expected to see was puss, bubbling out of the wound.

"Hey, uh, Ben, right?" Thomas started towards Ben. "I don't know if we've uh… met. But—"

That's when it hit me. I hadn't seen it in person before, but I'd seen it veiled behind a beetle blade. He had been stung.

I grabbed Thomas' shoulder, pulling him back. "Thomas don't he's been st—"

Before I could finish, Ben snatched the shovel from Thomas' hands and lifted it high in the air. In the blink of an eye, it came crashing down, and he swung it my way, aiming straight for my head.

I felt the excruciating pain as I fell to the floor, and the last thing I saw was Ben lunging for Thomas.

* * *

**A/N: GUYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE FEEDBACK LAST CHAPTER! So yeah, no love triangle. Just thought I'd take a poll! Thanks for the reviews from InvisibleSoul4, Harley Holmes, The Lady Geek, TenebrisSaggitarius, Amy, leelee1028, OFBLOODANDROSES, sarah0406, Boerboy, steggy4ever, kuipershade, and MusesatMidnight. **

**Please let me know your thoughts, your feedback is what keeps me writing!**

**Also, any suggestions on what you want to see between characters in future chapters?**


	16. Screams

The murmurs and whispers around me weren't decipherable in the slightest. I heard my name, and someone forcibly shook my body, but I couldn't see anything. I was floating in an inky lake of darkness; enveloped in black, but I could see light. I swam towards it, my legs treading, and when I finally broke the surface I felt a few pairs of arms try to pull me up.

Pulling back from the fogged pit of my sub consciousness, I bolted upright, grasping the arm of my captors tightly.

My breathing wheezed rapidly, and my blurry vision wouldn't focus. I dug my nails into something, trying to concentrate while I waited for my pupils to dilate.

"Where am I?!" I gasped, trying to grip onto whatever held me captive. "What happened?!"

"Ow!" Someone hissed in pain, "Shuck, cut your nails, Florence. That hurts."

I knew that voice, it belonged to Minho. The sassiness in his voice was like no others. But I couldn't see anything, like a blurry filter coated my eyes. Like I was wearing glasses that weren't the proper prescription.

I let go of what I assumed to be Minho with one arm, and starting fisting my eyes. Everything started to focus, painfully slow though. I was still in the forest, encompassed in foliage.

"You alright?" I turned to the left, seeing double Newt's, spinning like a pinwheel.

My brows pulled together, and I clutched the side of my head. "What happened…?" I groaned.

"Thomas said Ben smacked you in the head with a shovel."

I touched my forehead, feeling for any signs of injuries. There was a large, painful, bruised bump along my hairline on the rightside of my head. When I looked at my hand after touching the wound, I saw red.

"Shuck…" I cursed under my breath. "Wait," I froze, "Where's Thomas?"

Last thing I remember was a griever-stung Ben lunging for a dumbstruck Thomas.

"Don't worry," I felt Newt's hand on my back. "I knocked the bloody shank out. Tried to strangle Thomas, he nearly died."

I made a face, "Woah.." My head exploded in pain, and I let go of my grip to clutch my head, groaning again. "Ah, my head hurts."

"Let's just hope it isn't as bad as it looks," Minho muttered above me. I rose my head to peer up at him. His hands were on his sides and he was looking down at me, with that customary grumpy expression he always fashioned.

"Come on; let's get you to the Med-Jack hut." Newt scooped one arm underneath my arm, using his other hand to pull me up to a standing position. I moaned as soon as I stood upright, swaying back and forth as my world turned upside down.

"Woah there…" Minho said, hooking his arm underneath me now too.

It was easy to stay steady as they slowly aided me out of the forest at a sluggish pace. I couldn't move too fast or I'd feel like I was going to fall, or worse, die due to the head trauma.

"How long have I been there?" I turned to Minho.

"An hour, maybe," He replied, "Thomas the Slinthead thought that it would be smart to leave the part where you lying unconscious with a head wound in the Deadheads until we had Ben sorted out."

I ignored most of what he said, forgiving Thomas because he was probably still traumatized since only arriving yesterday, and skipped to the part where he said Ben's name.

"'Ben sorted out'?" I repeated with a questioned tone of voice.

"Ben's getting banished at sundown" Newt replied sullenly, his downcast eyes dropping to the floor as they limped me out of the forest.

"What?" I exclaimed. "Why?"

"Benny boy broke our number one rule," Minho told me, his eyes avoiding mine too.

"He could've killed both of you." Newt explained.

"But he was stung," I frowned as we got closer to the hut. We walked inside and without even saying anything; Jeff came towards me, bag of ice in hand, as well as a needle with thread tied to it.

"Doesn't matter," Newt's accented voice replied. "Could've killed you," He repeated, saying in a tone so mono that it made me feel depressed.

I gripped tighter to Minho as Newt let go of me, and Minho struggled to hold me as I swayed back and forth due to the loss of Newt. Newt moved around the gurney, sitting in one of the only chairs in the room.

Minho helped me onto the bed, and Jeff came forward with the ice pack.

"Put this on your head," Jeff told me.

I obeyed his orders, but immediately after raising my hands above my head, I wavered back and forth again, moaning.

I closed my eyes, hoping that would help stop the spinning, but somehow I ended up falling onto Minho, who, luckily, was close to the gurney.

Jeff crushed what I recognized to be a pile of dead leaves, which acted as a numbing medicine. Jeff had found them in the Deadheads long before I arrived. He crushed them and added a little water, until it formed a paste, and then painted the paste on my wound with his hands.

"You most likely have a concussion, so be careful. No work tomorrow. Newt, you're goign to have to keep a close eye on her for the next fourty-eight hours in case she experiences more serious follow-up symptoms."

Newt curtly nodded in response.

Everyone was uncomfortably silent for a long time . And still. It was only when Jeff started to stitch the bloody gash on my forehead did someone move. "So was he going through The Changing or something?" I asked all three of them.

Only Minho nodded.

"Well can't we give him the grief serum?"

"We don't have any left. Even if we did, he's too far gone." Jeff murmured as he knotted the last stitch on my forehead.

"What if I testify?" I suggested. "He hit me, and strangled Thomas, but what if we testify against him getting banished?"

"S'too late." Newt replied, his eyes glazed with a look similar to the other two boys in the room. "He's going to die one way or another."

I frowned. "There's really no hope?"

"None," Minho cut off before I even finished. He crossed his arms over his chest, and his eyes briefly flashed to me before exiting the hut.

Sundown was quickly approaching and I was running out of ideas to save Ben.

"This isn't fair." I whined like a three year old who hadn't got the candy bar they wanted. "Can't we do something?"

"No, Florence." Newt sternly dismissed me, but not rudely. He still avoided locking eyes with me.

I couldn't help but feel partially responsible for this. If I hadn't kept Thomas in the forest to tell him about everything, we wouldn't be in this predicament. Times like these I wondered if WICKED planned to kill of certain people ahead of time, or if it was just by chance.

"I thought Griever's only come out during the night," I said mostly to myself.

Jeff placed an alcohol-soaked cloth to my forehead, replying to my question as he did so. "That's what we thought,"

My mind was so confused and jumbled up. I had so many unanswered questions and my head still throbbed due to the incident. My brain was still fuzzy and faulting in trying to catch up with my thoughts.

"Come on," Newt held out a hand, and I took it, hopping off the gurney to march outside with him, Jeff followed intimately behind, shutting the door at the rear of us.

It was sundown, and the three of us were headed towards the North walls.

There was a large group waiting by the maze doors, spears and poles built for pushing someone out of the glade. Almost everyone was there, except a few faces. Which were Minho, Ben's, and Chuck's.

"What took you so long to get Thomas?" Newt asked, leaning closer to me so Jeff couldn't here.

"He needed help getting fertilizer," I lied, instantly feeling the guilt wash over me like a wave.

"Hmm," He hummed, uncertain of my words. That assured me that Thomas hadn't told them while I was unconscious, which relieved me to an indescribable extent. I didn't want anyone else getting hurt, especially Newt.

Alby handed Newt a pole as we walked closer to them and Newt took it, joining the group of keepers who held spears just like his. His face was expressionless, and he stood in position, not even speaking a word to the others, as if he had done this a thousand times before.

I stayed close to Newt's left, but waited behind the group of keepers and mingle my way into a huddle of Baggers.

Someone coughed, but despite that, it was silent.

I watched Thomas exit the homestead, Chuck far behind him. He made his way closer to us, his form growing large with each nearing step. Eventually he made it to the group, and surprisingly he went to my side instead of anyone else's.

There was a loud scream, which made Thomas recoil beside me.

Growls and shouts echoed through the glade, belonging to Ben, who was now walking towards us. He was held in a restraint with rope, like a handcuff, but omsohow the rope wrapped around his head. Minho held the rope that was around his neck, pushing Ben forward.

Ben and Minho were dotingly close of each other, and for him to have to be the one to lead him to his death was vindictive.

As he got closer, his gurgling cries got louder, and slightly more decipherable. "BAD BAD BAD." He looked worse than before. He was drenched in sweat. And blood. And we had matching head wounds, above the same brow. "Both of them."

_Both of them?_

"Minho, don't do this, _please._" He pleaded, but Minho just shoved him forward, occasionally kneeing his back when he wouldn't go further. "Just listen to me. Please just** listen** to me." He sounded like a demon.

Thomas and I exchanged a glance, which Newt caught.

Ben's protests were a strangled gurgle of insanity. "HE'S BAD!" Was all I got out of him. He pointed to Thomas, clawing the air. "Bad bad bad… Bad! He's bad. He's not one of us! Neither is she," he turned to me, and I was completely bug-eyed. Had he seen me during the Changing? "Let me kill them. We have to kill both of them…." He growled.

His sanguine nature was so scarily eerie that I actually found myself moving backwards from him.

"What are you talking—" Thomas began.

"SHUT YOUR FACE!" He screamed, "Shut your ugly, traitorous face. Slinthead."

All eyes were on Thomas and me, now.

I took a step backwards, boggled at the insane nature of Ben. I had never seen him look so gruesome and horrific. Veins bulging from his skin, gashes covering his body, puss bubbling on his knee, and his eyes. His eyes were out of this world, and not in a good way.

"ALBY!" He yelled as he Minho pushed Ben past him. Alby's face was contorted. I had never seen him look so broken.

There was a split in the middle of the small crowd of keepers, and Minho kept ramming Ben closer to the doors.

Everyone formed a half circle against the maze doors, blocking any opening for Ben to escape besides the maze.

Minho shoved Ben to his knees, cutting the rope around his wrists. He gagged and spot out a mouthful of blood as he fell to his hands and knees.

Minho briefly joined the merciless group, grabbing a bag from Veer

Benny dropped his head, and he started to cry. He was actually crying, begging for his life. I wanted to protest, but I knew there was nothing I could say that would persuade their decision. He was already a goner, and he was safer in the maze away from us then he was in the glade where we were vulnerable.

He coughed again, heaving a mouthful of blood and unrecognizable goop.

I croaking noise emitted from his mouth. It sounded like a frog, and he looked up to Minho, who was now in front of him, like a dog bowing for his master. Minho's back was faced to the maze, even as he threw the bag filled with food and water past the doors.

"No no… _Please…_" His lip quivered, trembling like there was some sort of vibrating object inside of his mouth. Blood dripped from it, as well as puss and a black liquid. "P-Please don't… Please don't. Please don't do it…" He blubbered ruthlessly.

I wanted to shut my eyes, I wanted to look away, but I couldn't.

There was a loud lurching sound as the maze doors started to close. Ben grew more frantic, his dark eyes darting everywhere.

There was the familiar howl of wind that gusted through the doors. Minho's hair flew wildly around his face as he joined the ruthless group again.

Ben tried to scrawl backwards and scoot between peoples legs, but there whole banishment set up was thoroughly thought through. There was no opening to escape through.

He scrawled backwards now, poles poking his sides, forcing him closer to his death. "No!" He cried again. "_No no no._"

He picked up copious amounts of mud as his lugs trudged in the dirt.

He tried to stand, the doors moving closer to each other now.

He swayed back and forth, from one spear to another.

His eyes searched for an escape, but came up short. He spat up a mouthful of blood, stumbling over his footing when he took a few steps backwards.

"Move in," Alby ordered over the loud noise of the howling wind.

"NO!" He griped, "NO NO NO! NO please…" He tried to bat away the poles that moved in on him.

He ran back and forth, trying to press through the bodies, but it was not viable.

Thomas moved from my side. He wandered around the half-circle, peering over a shorter boy's shorter to get a good view.

"NO PLEASE!" He shrieked when a pole whacked him in the face. He staggered backwards, still trying so desperately to live.

The doors were a few feet from closing now, and Ben had already stepped foot into the maze. He had to make a choice: Get squished like road kill between the doors, or have one last fighting chance and enter the maze. I would've taken the later.

Like he had unknowingly taken my suggestion, he squished through the closing doors.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" was the last word we heard before the doors shut tightly.

An odd moment of silence hung over the glade, like a heavy cloud. It was as if someone had sucked all the noise at of the air with a vacuum, leaving only the echo of the walls booming shut and Ben's screams on the other side.

A lone tear made itself comfortable on my right cheek, and I didn't bother to sweep it away.

Ben was my friend, before the maze, too. We were never close as to call each other best friends, but we weren't just acquaintances.

No one said anything, no one moved. Everyone just remained where they were.

Thomas looked confused, and angry, almost. But his face was mostly shocked at the gruesome brutality of Ben's fate.

Chuck, who I hadn't noticed had even arrived, was yards away from us, his back turned.

Newt hung on his spear, his forehead resting against the wood while his eyes remained shut.

Alby and Minho were more distraught then I'd ever seen.

Gally and Veer exchanged a look of sadness, something I'd never seen on the builder's face before.

Even Marcus was dour.

Alby lifted his head to face the crowd, and everyone stiffened, waiting for him to speak.

He looked around the small crowd, his lip quivering.

"_He belongs to the maze now_."

* * *

I held a flaming torch close to the maze wall, listening to the loud clang's Gally made in the cement with a spike of metal as he carved a line across Ben's name.

It didn't take long, Ben was short. Just like his lifespan.

_Clang clang clang. _

He crossed one more line, than looked from me to Veer. His eyes dashed back and forth, from my brown eyes to Veer's hazel.

Gally gave me a curt nod, before dismissing us from the last job in the glade for tonight. Veer patted my shoulder as he moved past me, leaving me alone in the dim light of my torch.

I looked at my name, recalling how long it had taken for me to carve eight letters onto the cement. My writing looked like chicken scratch compared to everyone else's. Dwelling on tonight's previous events, I lifted my hands to meet the cold fortress in front of me. My fingers moved to my name, grazing across the letters like a blind man reading Braille.

"Do you feel as terrible as I feel?"

I turned to the voice, dropping my hands from the wall.

The shadow was hard to identify at first, but when it came closer I ID'd it as Thomas. He was dressed only in light pants and a white musle shirt.

His face was dirty, highlighting his face like bronzer on a girl. I had forgotten he spoke to me for a second.

"I know it's not our fault, but it feels like it." I agreed with him, turning back to the names on the wall.

"Mhm." He concurred. "Alby said he wouldn't have made it anyways. Said he was too far, that he would've died."

"Alby's right," I replied weakly, tucking one arm underneath my armpit.

"Was he a good guy?" He asked, curious of Ben.

"The best," I smiled frailly. "I saw a lot of him. He was always sick, whether it was strep throat, the flu, or a cut on the knee."

"Did you know him?" He asked, "Before, I mean."

I thought back to my time before the maze. "Not well."

"Oh." He licked his small, heart –shaped lips. "Can I ask you something?"

My eyes flickered towards him, and I finally face his body. "Shoot."

"How old do I look?"

I bit my lip.

"How old am I?" He clarified.

"Sixteen." I muttered lowly.

"Hmm." He nodded. That concluded our conversation. We just stared at the wall for minutes on end, the torch flickering in front of us like a dead flashlight.

I knew Thomas wanted to know more, that's why he came over here, but I hoped he'd respect that I wasn't entirely in the mood to speak to him. Nor was I entitled to say anymore. Just thinking about it brought the migraine back.

"What's so interesting about the buggin' wall?" I didn't turn to see the voice this time, I knew by the accent, and the sound of the limping footsteps that slowly approached.

I shrugged, clutching my arm tighter to my body to hug myself for warmth.

I let out a long suffering sigh.

"Night'" Thomas put a hand on my back, rubbing it in a soothing motion before absconding away. Newt caught it, and his eyes were pierced onto Thomas' back as he sauntered back towards Chuck and his hammock.

I licked my lips, hating the uncomfortable silence that floated mercilessly between Newt and I. He appeared to be in a better mood now. He was probably used to losing friends. Maybe that's why he was so distant from people; he didn't want to get to close to them then have to watch them brutally die months later.

"Since when were you and Tommy so bloody close?" Newt pointed out. "Yesterday you said you didn't like Greenie's."

"24 hours changes a person." I almost smirked. _Almost._

"What the buggin' hell did I miss?" He tried to force out a chuckle.

I feeble smile grew on my lips. "You jealous Newtie Pattootie?"

"Stop bloody calling me that!" His shoulder budged mine, and my heart warmed at the thought of his innocent flirting.

My heart still ached for Ben, though.

"I'm sorry about Ben," I apologized, making the atmosphere shift into a more melancholy aura.

"S'alright." He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. We both faced the wall, intently watching it like we were watching our favorite television show, but realism set in and we had to face the fact that we were staring at the name of one of closest friends, his name crossed out like a forename on a hit list.

I tried to blink the tears back, veiling them from Newt who was painfully close beside me, but it was near unfeasible.

My nose started run, and I sniffed, and that's when he noticed my sorrowfulness. Instead of saying anything, he stirred towards me. He grabbed the torch from my hand, and dropped it on the floor, letting it lean on the wall.

He cupped one hand behind my head, and the other snaked around my body.

My body felt numb as we melted into each other. I felt too weak to wrap my arms around him, so I just leaned my head against his chest, my hair cascading around my face.

It was like a dream, being hugged by Newt.

But the circumstances of Ben's Banishment were a nightmare.

I heard the whirring of a griever on the other side of the wall near us, and I buried my face closer to Newt's chest. Eventually, I found the strength to wrap an arm around Newt. I gripped the back of his hoodie shirt, fisting it as I clung to him.

The griever made a gruesome howl, rumbling throughout the glade. I winced, shutting my eyes.

Minutes later, a mechanical noise of cement scraping against cement followed. The maze changed into its new form for today, and the griever that was near us was no longer heard.

I shut my eyes tighter, praying I could shut my ears from the sound.

There was a loud, bloodcurdling scream from the noise, one I recognized to be Ben's

It was deafening, ricocheting off the glade walls; causing the livestock to make noises and the birds in the tree to fly away, until finally, like a button being turned off, it disconnected.

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews from InvisibleSoul4, .Free.0.o, HarleyHolmes, Rose, SelenaM, and Miss Glader. In regards to your question, Miss Glader, you'll have to wait and see ;) **

**Thanks for the reviews! Feel free to PM me.**


	17. Choices

"Ready for keeper training?" I asked Thomas, chewing a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

We were in Fry's kitchen, eating breakfast. Newt was nowhere to be seen; he disappeared before I woke up. It was just Thomas, Chuck, and I sitting at the table, three of the seven people still left still eating.

"Not really," He mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

"Klunked my pants when I did keeper training," Chuck terribly reassured Thomas. "Being a Slicer was worse than… well anything."

"Agreed," I added, pointing at Chuck in concurrent.

"I did Slicer and Track-Hoe training already. I get to spend the day as a Bagger." He gave details.

"Veer's a cool guy," I told him, "Being a bagger seems pretty straight forward. If you're good he'll probably let you off earlier," I winked at him.

"I'll be sure to be on my best behavior then," He chucked, prodding his food with his fork, uninterested in eating it now.

"You gonna eat that?" Chuck asked, eager for more food.

Thomas smirked, pushing his plate towards the younger boy. He rested his hand on his face, his cheek squishing against the fist he formed.

I made a face at him. "Why so glum, chum?"

He licked his lips, his face filled with perplexion. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. It was seconds later before he continued. "How do you become a runner?"

I was actually astounded at the words that came out of his mouth. No one wanted to run for ten hours a day five days a week. "A runner?" Newt was right when he said the Greenie was keen on becoming one. "No one wants to be a runner."

"I do," he batted his eyelashes at me; eyes wide, like he was baffled at the fact that I didn't want to become one.

"Well you have to be chosen," Chuck spat out bits of food as he spoke, earning a small smile from me.

"Seeing as what happened last time for runner training, they might not even late you try out." I explained.

"What?" He shrieked a little too loudly, earning glares from the other gladers in the room. "Why? Why don't I even get a chance to prove myself?"

"Florence shucked that chance up."Chuck chuckled.

I rolled my eyes.

"What'd you do?" Thomas asked.

I blew out a long raspberry, feeling embarrassed about speaking about it. "I was running with Minho and on the way back I had an asthma attack. We almost died, well, mostly me."

Thomas groaned, "Way to go Florence."

"Hey!" I frowned, "Not my fault."

"Yeah," Chuck stood up for me, "How was she supposed to know she had asthma?"

Thomas almost choked. He forced a fake laugh out and narrowed his wide eyes at me. "Yeah. Ha. How was she supposed to know?"

I rolled my eyes at him.

It was nice being around Thomas. It was like nothing had changed, like he still remembered everything. We still acted like best friends.

We dumped our plates into Frypan's large dishwashing sink and exited the hut. Chuck drifted off, leaving Thomas and I sauntering towards the North doors.

"Tell me more about the outside world," Thomas pushed.

"You make it sound like we're lab rats." I snorted. "Like we're stuck in some giant dome, shielded from everyone." I added.

"Well, we are, aren't we?" He said. I thought about my words; they rung in my ears, repeating themselves over and over. We basically were just lab rats, minus the cheese. The only dissimilarity was we had mechanical slug like creatures that stung you and attempted to execute you.

"I suppose so." I gave a weak pout as we walked around the lookout tree. "Anyways, you were saying?"

"Tell me about what life is like outside of the maze."

I heard it before I saw the beetle blade. Its reddish silver color glinted in my peripheral, and I knew that WICKED was watching us. A headache started to form on the right side of my head; the same side where my stitches were. It was a warning.

"I can't tell you Thomas, I really can't. I'm sorry," I apologized.

"Just try," He urged.

"I can't. It hurts too much."

"Please, try."

"Thomas—" I groaned, my head throbbing. "Ugh."

"Woah!" Thomas' eyes widened and he stopped walking.

"What?" I asked, moving my hand to the epicenter of the migraine.

He pointed above my brow, touching the skin. "Your head, it's bleeding again."

I touched my stitches, and then moved my hand to observe. Yup. Sure enough, there was blood. I groaned again, wiping the maroon liquid on my pants.

"Can you tell me who WICKED is? How it was formed? I see the logo on everything, the wood, the barrels, the medicine, the walls. It's even carved into a tree in the Deadheads."

I shut my eyes, feeling the migraine grow stronger. They were warning me, making sure I told Thomas zilch. I tried to open my mouth, but nothing emitted. It must have looked stupid to Thomas. If he hadn't known about my predicament he'd probably think I'm insane.

I hissed in a breath, groaning as I kneeled to the floor. The concussion I had didn't help. "Klunk," I cursed, "This shucking hurts!"

It was a bad one this time. My vision was disturbed, so much that my body swayed, even in the kneeling position. Intense bouts of pain shot through me, like a pulse.

I hadn't even realized Thomas was calling my name. He tried to pull me up to a standing position. Somehow, he stood me erect. He shook my shoulders, and I saw him mouth my name, shouting it. I couldn't hear anything but an annoying buzz sound. Like electricity, or flies. His hands were on my shoulder, violently shaking me back and forth, trying to break me from this stupor.

Somehow it worked, and everything came back, the headache fading, but still throbbing.

One hand remained on my shoulder, while the other tore off a piece of fabric off of his shirt.

He lifted the piece of fabric to my head, dabbing the wound. All I saw out of my right eye was red. The blood must have dripped to my eyelids. It blocked part of my vision, making me shut my right eye.

"Are you alright?" He asked, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pressed you."

I winced when he touched a sensitive part of my wound.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaim. "I'm sorry… shuck." That was the first time I had heard him use glader lingo. It tended to make an appearance in frustrating times. "I shouldn't have pushed you that far, I'm really sorry Florence. It's just hard not knowing, you know?"

"I know," I croaked, my voice hushed. "I wish I could tell you, I do Thomas, but like you just saw, they physically won't let me…" I trailed off.

"I understand," He replied dolefully. He kept dabbing the blood on my face. He moved to my eye, wiping it like he was removing eye makeup with a wet towlette. One hand was gripping the side of my head now, keeping it steady while he tidied me.

His eyes flickered past me, then back to my forehead. He did that a few times before speaking. "Newt looks like he wants to murder me." He chuckled nervously.

I pushed his hand away from my head, not caring how gruesome I looked, and turned around.

Newt was whacking a tree stump with his handy dandy machete. His slashes were hard and forceful, and he just glowered at Thomas, not even looking at the tree stump.

I tried to hide my smile as I turned back to Thomas. "He's just jealous."

Thomas let out a simple 'Ha' smiling at my words. We continued our walk, and I pulled my sleeve over my hand, fisting my eye to rub off the rest of the blood. "So does that mean you're together?"

Ugh.

I bit my lip. "Like I said yesterday, it's complicated."

"In what way?" His thick, round brows lifted high in the air.

"Ehhh…" I trailed off, kicking the grass as we walked. "Everything's so chaotic lately, there's never any time for us to just enjoy each other's company."

"Don't you two share a room together?" He gave me a playfully roguish look.

"Yeah," My eyes rolled down, "But by the time our heads hit the pillow, we're out. Well he's out. I'm usually laying awake, staring at the ceiling."

"What?" He spat, chuckling, "Why?"

"I don't like sleeping."

His brows pulled together as he shoved his hands in his pocket. "Who doesn't like sleeping?"

"An insomniac," I explained, "Someone who repeatedly has nightmares. Some co-starring you." Lately, since he arrived, he hadn't been in them. Only the green-eyed man.

"Woah, really?" He went bug-eyed, "What happens in them?"

I paused, going silent as we passed a few gladers, one of which was Newt. He was still massacring the tree stump; wood chunks flying everywhere like a wood chipper. His scowl was still pressed on Thomas, and he didn't even acknowledge me like he usually did when we saw each other.

I cleared my throat. "Either my brains being cut open or I'm running from two men, one of which I'm sure they won't allow me to say his name. Although I don't recognize one. But I do. Does that make sense?"

"Not really…"

"Well, I mean, I feel like I've seen him before, but I can't pinpoint where. Newt said I said the name 'Alistair' in my sleep once, but I don't recognize the name."

Thomas stiffened as soon as the forename came out of my mouth. His eyes rapidly whirled around in his sockets and he looked to the floor. "I recognize it."

"You do?" I asked, pushing him this time for answers.

"Yeah… But I can't remember." He appeared to be sifting through non-existent memories, searching his brain for the mug shot of the man's name. "Ugh, why can't I remember?"

"Shucking Swipe," I shook my head.

He sighed, giving up on the internal memory search.

"I had a few dreams these last two nights." He announced moments later.

"Really?" I asked, "Are they like mine?"

"Sort of… but less violent." He told me. "I see this girl, she's calling my name, but I don't recognize her. All is see is dark hair, black."

That was Teresa. But of course, I couldn't tell him.

"Then there's this women, she keeps repeating 'WICKED is good'".

Chancellor Ava Paige, no doubt.

I groaned internally, not even bothering to try to tell him because I didn't want the headache to return.

"Do you think they're controlling our brains?"

I sighed. "That's a question, Thomas, that's a question…" I shrugged, "For once, I don't even know. I just got shoved into the maze into the middle of the night. My trust is faulty in believing that this is all for the better good of things."

"Hmm," He replied, "Well, this is where I leave you." Thomas gestured to the open maze doors, where Veer was impatiently waiting, and his foot drumming on the ground while his arms were crossed over his chest.

"See you around Tommy," I dismissed, pacing away in the opposed direction.

I heard a distant "Bye," seconds later.

The glade was quiet for most of the day. Alby and Newt were running around, doing their glade duties. I helped Zart pull some tomatoes, but took it easy for the most part considering my condition. I hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Newt at all today, which made me sad, and annoyed. I needed a daily dose of that boy to keep me going. He was my fuel, my caffeine to keep pushing through the day.

Wasn't he supposed to be monitoring me 24/7? I shrugged as I picked another tomato.

A sprinting figure suddenly caught my peripheral.

I turned to the north doors seeing Thomas towering over a panting Minho, who was on the floor.

A small crowd of five gladers, consisting of Alby, Veer and Newt, formed around them. Zart and I exchanged a look of curiosity, and looked back to them. Alby stalked off a few seconds later, entering the homestead. He came back after a minute, joining the group with a jar of water for a breathless Minho.

I turned to Zart, who was standing now in curious anticipation, and then walked over to see what the commotion was.

"Freaking Newbies…" I heard Minho wheeze, hands on his knees as his chest heaved up and down.

I moved in between Alby and Newt. "What's going on?" I asked. Minho shouldn't be back this early. Minho snatched the jar from Alby's hand, water spilling onto Newt and I, then gulped the liquid down without stopping for a breath once.

"Okay, out with it." Alby advocated, "What happened?"

Minho's eyebrows raised, and he gave a nod towards our new Greenie.

"He's fine," Alby shook off, "I don't care what the shank hears. Just talk."

We all stood quietly in anticipation, waiting for Minho to speak. He groaned as he straightened his posture, his exhausted body becoming rigged. "I found a dead one." He announced, his cold gaze scanning over each of us.

"A dead what?" I asked.

Minho smirked devilishly. "A dead griever"

I shivered at the spine-chilling name. Just thinking about its gruesome, sticky, sluggish form made me want to spew Frypan's eggs.

Alby frowned. "Ain't a good times for jokes, Slinthead."

"Look," Minho answered, "I wouldn't believe me either if I were you, but I don't got all day. So just trust me. I found one. A big, fat, nasty one at that."

"You found a dead griever…" I repeated in disbelief.

"Did I stutter, Florence?" Minho raised his brows.

I rolled my eyes at his sass.

"What did it look like?" Veer asked in anticipation.

"Any metal spikes? Was it moving?" Alby pondered, more believing of Minho's words now.

Thomas was shaking beside me. His lip quivered, and I could tell he was holding back the explosion of questions underneath his tongue.

"What part of 'dead' don't you understand shank?" Minho was the only person who could speak to Alby like that. "Just, slim it and come with me. You gotta see it for yourself. It's…. weird."

"Weird?" Newt questioned.

"Dude, I'm exhausted. Just come with me, Alby. It's just a couple of miles. If we leave now we should be back in time before the doors close." He moaned.

"Fine," Alby grumbled. "Newt, you're in charge."

"Thank you…" Minho sighed, his hands folding together in a pleading gesture. "Just let me get a new pack. I dropped mine in the maze on the way here." He jogged off towards the Runner's hut, Alby trailing behind him, leaving only Newt, Thomas and I.

"Hey Newt," We all whipped around to see Zart, who had a machete in his hand. "Sorry to disrupt. Gally wants us to pull up the other stump, by the lookout tree. He said he wants to build a better ladder but it's in the way. Mind helping?"

His eyes flickered to me, and his arms folded across his chest. His head dipped down, and he opened his mouth to reply. "Yeah… Yeah, sure."

"I'll come," I announced.

"Me too," Thomas seconded.

"Good," Newt grumbled, "We could use the muscle."

We all ambled towards the stump. It was larger then I expected. Half of the tree was still there. It was about 6'2. Chuck was sitting on a log, just beside the stump, folding laundry. He smiled as we approached him. I joined him on the log, the pile of clothes between us.

"Need help?" I asked.

"Please," He grinned wide.

I smiled, grabbing a shirt from the pile.

Thomas shifted beside me, scooting his behind up the log until he got into a stable position. Newt and Zart immediately got to work. Newt's machete's chopped the dry wood while Zart's shovel dug deep in trying to pry the root out.

"Why is Alby going in the maze if he's not a runner?" Thomas inquired.

"He's the leader," I explained, "Doesn't matter if he's not a runner."

"Exactly," Newt concurred.

"Couldn't it be dangerous?" He sustained his inquisition.

"Well… things are different." Newt replied, kneeling to slash the dry wood again.

"Different?" I questioned this time.

"Yeah," He nodded, looking at me, his brown doe eyes pouring into mine. "Seems things have been changing lately. They'll make it back before sun down." He pointed the machete at Thomas, his annoyed tone of voice rising in pitch. "Look, are you gonna help?" He pointed the machete back at the stump.

"Wait, so he's going to approach a griever, right after Ben was just stung?" He asked in disbelief, "In the middle of the day?"

"Alby knows what he's doing." He assured Thomas, pointing the lethal weapon back at him. "Alright?" He dramatically paused, "He knows better than any of us."

Thomas licked his lips, head falling briefly.

I folded another shirt, placing it in the finished pile. I sighed as Thomas asked another question. "What does that mean?"

Newt sighed, scratching the back of his neck. He sniffed, and then started to walk closer to us. "Alright, it's like you've heard, yeah? Every month, the box sends up a new arrival."

"Except in Florence's case," Thomas pointed to me with a machete. I leaned back, not even noticing he had obtained one.

"Except in Florence's case," Newt repeated, scratching his neck again. "But someone had to be first. Someone had to spend a whole month in the glade alone. That was Alby."

Zart wheezed, the only one still working the large stump now. He whipped the sweat of his forehead with his sleeve.

Thomas didn't reply. Just watched as Newt joined Zart again. "I mean, it couldn't have been easy. But one after another, more boys started to arriving, and then they saw the truth, and we learned that the most _important _thing—" He grunted, "Is that we all have each other." He gestured to each of us with his machete. "We're all in this together." Thomas looked down at Chuck, who was engrossed in his clothes folding, then peered down at me. He gave me a weak smile, looking from Newt to Zart.

His smiled grew as his eyes went downcast. He hopped off the log and jogged towards Newt and Zart. Newt smiled politely as Thoams joined them, and even encouraged the Greenie as he started to whack the stump with his weapon. "Yeah! There ya go Greenie."

We all sat in silence for a while, content with Newt's words. We let them soak in; appreciating the close-knit family we had grown. We had fought like family, grown together like family, and treated each other like family.

I watched Newt as he continuously slashed at the tree, stopping every so often to rub his forehead with his sleeve. He caught me staring at him once and gave me a signature Newt smile, close-lipped style. And I returned one the same.

A low rumble in the sky caught the attention of Thomas and I.

When there was another grumble, Chuck, Newt and Zart perked up, their tree slashing seizing. Chuck was already starting to pack up his pile of clothes, miraculously fitting the whole bundle in his short arms.

The rain started minutes later. At first it was a light drizzle, but then it accumulated into a heavy rainfall.

"We better finish this later," Newt shouted over the loud rain. "Gally can bloody wait."  
Zart nodded, picking everyone's tools up. He stalked off towards the gardens to return the tools into the small hut that we had for them.

"Come on," Newt yelled. He placed a hand on my back, leading me towards cover.

The rain was starting to soak my clothes, and we shifted into a light jog as buckets of water started to fall from the sky.

I heard Thomas' slushy steps behind me, and didn't bother looking back to check if he was alright. We found quick cover underneath Fry's kitchen. Luckily, it was open concept shack so we could see the doors and wait for Alby and Minho. I couldn't imagine how they were holding up in the storm.

It wasn't a terrible storm, but no one talked for the first half hour. The rain was too loud, and the rumbles in the sky made it even harder to hear anyone. I found comfort beside Veer and Chuck on a bench, while Newt remained closest to the Maze doors (When in reality we were yards away from it) placing himself beside a pole, leaning on it while we waited. Gally and Marcus were underneath the hut with us, along with two other gladers I didn't recognize.

An hour passed, and another, and the only words that were spoken were a "Bless you," From Fry when one of the gladers sneezed, and a "Thank you," In reply.

Fry pulled at the strap of his overalls, leaning against the pole beside Thomas'.

Another hour passed, and that's when we started to worry. But no one said anything. Not until another half hour later. And, as expected, it was Thomas. "They should be back by now," He hollered towards Newt. "What happens if they don't make it?"

Newt's vacant eyes remained on the doors. "They're gonna make it." He seemed to be reassuring himself more than he was Thomas. I was the only one who could see past that.

Thomas hands fiddled nervously against the pole. He licked his lips, a nervous habit he had, and approached Newt, who still fashioned that vacant expression. "What happens if they don't?"

"They're gonna make it," He said in a low tone, barely audible. He finally turned to Thomas, their faces close.

Again, he licked his lips before returning to his pole.

I observed the glade, tuning out their conversation. Everyone was huddled under different forms of cover. Some were in the blood house, others underneath the lookout tree, and a big group huddled inside the homestead.

It was a rare occasion for it to rain in the glade, clearly.

After everything, and everyone, had been entirely soaked to the core, Mother Nature decided to lighten up on us, and the rain stopped.

The clouds even floated away.

We all gradually made a slow approach to the maze doors. After half an hour, the whole glade huddled against the north doors.

Everyone was aware of Alby and Minho's departure, and everyone was **well **alert that the doors closed in less than fifteen minutes. I found comfort between Thomas and Newt. Newt was to my left, his shoulder behind mine, Thomas to my right, his shoulder in front of mine. We were all squished so tightly together, anticipating their homecoming.

When the next five, soundless minutes passed, I turned to Newt. He had that same unoccupied look. His eyes were glazed, and he was oblivious to everyone around him, only focusing on the task at hand. It was a look I saw similar in Alby.

Maybe it was something being a leader did to you.

Another minute passed, and another, and another. A few gladers actually sat down, their buts planted to the wet ground as they watched the corridor of the maze like it was some reality television show.

A bird tweeted in the distance, and a few gladers, including myself, churned their heads towards it.

Newt nervously rubbed his face with a hand, stroking it like he had a beard. His other arm tucked neatly underneath him.

"Can't we send someone in after them?" Thomas asked.

Before I could reply, Gally responded with the answer I was about to say. "It's against the rules. They either make it back or they don't."

His words sent chills up my spine.

"Can't risk losing anyone else," Newt clarified in a politer tone. He rubbed his forearm, switching nervous gestures.

I gnawed at my lip, picking away the dead skin as my eyes scanned for any movement in the corridor.

The familiar howl of the doors sounded, and the crowd shifted in response, searching for any sign of the boys. The boys that were previously sitting stood up, and some even shifted forward a step or two.

"No…"I whispered to myself, taking a step closer to the doors.

_Come on. Come on._

This couldn't be happening. They had to make it back. Who would run the glade? Who would be the only one to understand my sarcasm?

Everyone shielded their faces as a gust of dust and dead vines squalled by.

The doors lurched, causing a loud crunching noise.

The doors were closing.

The doors were actually closing now.

"Oh no…" Chuck muttered behind me.

"There!" Thomas jumped, pointing to the end of the corridor.

It was hard to focus my eyes, but I squinted them, nearly shut, and then saw the movement.

"Something's wrong…" I publicized to the crowd, observing as Minho sluggishly walked forward, Alby on his back. Alby was unconscious.

"Come on Minho! You can do it!" Chuck shouted.

His cry sent the crowd into a wave of cheers. They all chanted something different; some Minho's name, some Alby's. The only one who was silent was Newt.

His eyes were wide, in fear for his best friends.

"COME ON!"

"YOU CAN MAKE IT!"

"JUST A LITTLE MORE."

"DITCH ALBY."

"SAVE YOURSELF MINHO."

At first glance, I thought Minho was ditching Alby, but he merely dumped him onto the floor, then started grabbing his legs, towing him backwards.

"Minho! You gotta leave him." Gally shouted in my ear.

"They're not going to make it…" Newt finally accepted it.

That was the breaking point.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion. Minho was lugging Alby's unconscious body, a look of fear on his face as he screamed in frustration. Newt's face contorted. The crowd shouted, jumping and pushing like a rave concert.

The only thing that stood out was Thomas.

Thomas, who wouldn't shut his trap, Thomas, who was an understatement for verbal diarrhea, Thomas, who would never 'slim it' even when someone told him to, was silent. All his talk about being a runner and wanting to go into the maze was spiraling in my mind.

He was going to run in there.

"Don't…" I whispered, low enough that only he would hear over the shouts. I leaned towards him "Don't you dare."

"I have to." He said without looking. "We can't just leave them there."

My heart beat loudly in my chest, and my wound throbbed. I could hear my heartbeat. It was because I was scared. I was scared because subconsciously, I had already made the decision to join Thomas, and I was just facing that fact now. "I'm coming with you."

"You sure about this?" He replied hastily, wasting no time as the doors neared a close.

I nodded slowly, although I wasn't really sure. I had run out of time to over think the whole thing through.

He held his hand out to me, his fingers wiggling as he waited for me to interlace them. "3…" he started.

"2…" I licked my lips, copying his nervous habit as my hand slowly lifted to meet his. I let it hovering, hesitating for a moment.

"1…" He finished.

"FLORENCE NOOOOOO." Newt's scream was so loud, that I thought my eardrums would shatter. I felt his light touch graze my arm as he tried to stop me.

But it was too late.

I entangled my fingers in Thomas' and we moved forward in our quest. We squeezed past the connecting spikes, avoiding the one just above our head, and pushed through the last open foot of the wall in the last second.

We collapsed onto the ground, myself on top of Thomas, and the doors shut behind us.

The echo of its rumble ricocheted off the maze walls like a certified psychotic mental patient's crazed laughter.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews from Mina( I updated, yay!) and Aeternial (Thanks for the long review).**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, please tell me your thoughts! ****I literally put three hours aside and just wrote and wrote and wrote, so pretty please in return tell me your thoughts on this :)**

**Feel free to PM me anytime!**


	18. Blood Sweat and Tears

"Good job…" Minho huffed, a look of giving up stretched across his face. "You just killed yourself."

I rolled my eyes, dusting myself off as I scooted off of Thomas.

Thomas turned over, placing himself on his hands and knees to face Minho. "W-What?" he stuttered.

Minho's eyes shut, and he planted his butt on the maze floor, his chest heaving with every wheezy breath as he ignored Thomas.

Thomas gave Minho a discerning look when he didn't reply. He gazed up at me, and I just raised my eyebrows in the air, shrugging slightly. Thomas, out of breath from the sudden bolt out of the glade, stood himself up and staggered over to an unconscious Alby.

I leisurely trailed behind him, observing the alarming red that decorated Alby's forehead. I found myself raising a hand to graze the bumpiness feeling that manifested itself over my stitches. "What happened?" I pointed to Alby's large wound.

"What does it look like?" I had never heard Minho sound so angry. "He got stung."

"Guess grievers can play dead pretty well." I said, leaning over Alby to check his vitals.

Pulse, check. Breathing, check. He was still alive.

"What happened to his head?" Thomas pointed to the lesion.

"I did what I had to do." I shivered at Minho's words, imagining him smashing Alby's head on the concrete ivy-covered walls in order to save himself. "Look, Greenie. I wouldn't exactly say I expected this out of you, but I'm not surprised you ran in here. You don't know enough about this place. But if you think running in here was brave and heroic, think again, shuck face. You're dead. But you, Florence. You ran this maze with me before. You know how dangerous it is. How much of a Slinthead could you be?" He shook his head, grumbling.

I just bit my lip. He was right. I looked up at the sky, gazing at the fallen twilight. The maze walls were so tall that the shadow they casted inside the corridors made it appear to be the middle of the night already.

"Whatever guys, break the number one rule. See if I care. I don't, just in case you were wondering, because a few hours from now—if I even make it that long—I'll be dead. Just like you shuck faces." He groaned, hoisting himself up with the help of the maze walls.

"We were just trying to help," Thomas defended.

Minho shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

I glanced back at the maze doors. Newt was on the other side, probably weeping at the doors with Chuck. He would think I had chosen Thomas and Minho over him, but I didn't. I wasn't strong enough to even make it out of this maze. I wasn't strong enough to survive the first trial. So why not die doing something worthwhile? Newt could live without me. He would make it out. I was sure of it. He was stronger than anyone in the entire glade.

A loud griever scream interrupted my train of that and we all gazed down the corridor, expecting to meet our death.

"Okay…" Thomas' shaky voice said. "A-Alright." He tried to sit up in a kneeling position, peering up at the both of us. "Help me get him up."

He shook his head, panting still. "We gotta go. The maze is already changing." His trudged footsteps started in the other direction.

"Hey,** Minho**." Thomas' voice was loud and livid. "We can't just leave him here." He said, hovering over Alby's body.

Minho didn't turn around, just stopped in the middle of his tracks, grumbling.

"I'll help," I offered Thomas, leaning down to him.

"Thanks," He said in a low voice.

We both hooked an arm underneath Alby, and groaned as we stood his slack body upright.

As we passed Minho, hauling our Leader, he rolled his eyes.

"Move over, shuck face." He gave me a small push, and I allowed him to take my position in hauling Alby.

"Is he dead?" Thomas asked, a minute or two later.

"You've got a lot to learn, Slinthead." Minho threw the boy a smirk.

I sighed, "He's stung, which means he's probably not going to make it anyway…" I coldly resorted to with a small shrug. Wow, I was becoming as unconstructive as Minho.

We turned down a corridor, and another.

The lack of griever howls were unusual, especially as the light fleeted more and more from the maze with each passing second. We walked in silence for a while, the only sound being the panting breaths of the boys and I, as well as the nightly insects chirping.

"Agh," Minho groaned as they came to fork in the maze. Left or right? Minho was taking lead, and we looked for him for answers, but instead of telling us, he just sighed loudly and requested for Thomas to set him down.

They forced Alby on to his butt and leaned him against the maze wall, right in the middle of the three hallways. Minho bounced on his toes, stabling Alby into a better position while Thomas collapsed on the floor. I leaned down to help Minho.

"Has anybody ever made it out alive during the night?" Thomas asked to no one in particular.

There was another loud screech from the right, causing glances from all of us, and then it faded. My body trembled with nerves, but I tried my best to hide it in front of the two braver boys.

"Never," Minho's voice cracked in disparity. His eyes fell downcast, and he deadpanned. "GAH!" He cried, startling both Thomas and I, "This isn't going to work… We gotta go."

Minho shot up beside me, and, basically, exploded in emotions. He started pacing back and forth, and didn't care when a few pencils fell out of his pack. "We gotta go…" he repeated.

"Wait w-wait wait…" Thomas stood, his hands cautioning towards Minho. "What are you talking about? We can't go. We gotta do something…"

"Let's hide him." I suggested.

Their heads both shot towards mine, and in unison asked "Where?"

I shrugged, nervously gnawing my bottom lip again.

"Isn't there a place we could take him? You know the maze better than anyone Minho." Thomas vocalized.

"ARGH!" Minho whipped around towards Thomas, swiftly kneeling to his height, and grabbed the collar of Thomas' shirt. His teeth were gritted, grinding against each other in anger as he pulled Thomas' frightened face closer. "Listen to me, shuck face. Alright? Take a look around. _There's **nowhere** to go._"

"Minho!" I cried, lunging forward to break the two up. I grabbed Minho's pack, attempting to pull his heavy body away from Thomas. "We're never going to survive if you kill each other first."

Minho, hearing the words finally let Thomas go. He yanked my grip off of him as he stood, glaring at the two of us.

"We're stuck in here, okay?" I told Minho. "There's nothing we can do. So we have to make the most of it and put up our best fight. Stop being a Slinthead, we have to work together. You're giving up to easily."

He sighed, still raging. But he knew I was right.

His lip quivered, and his eyes flashed from Thomas, to Alby, then to me. "You don't get it…" he said gravely. "We're already dead."

I shot him a sour look, dropping my gaze, which earned another groan from him. Minho's constant negativity was getting on my nerves more then I'd like to say, but I tried to let it slide, for the sake of us getting along better than we were right now.

I heard Thomas crunch some of the dead ivy leaves as he stood up, and Minho and I looked to him.

He straightened his clothes insolently, and then walked forward. His face, surprisingly, was full of life, like he had an initiative. His arms weaved through Minho and I, splitting us apart as he moved past. His head leaned back as his eyes trailed up the maze wall. At first, I cocked my head at his odd behavior, but then, I saw what he was looking at.

The vines. They all clung to one another, a giant cluster of them thickly growing together, scaling the whole wall. I didn't even see a single patch of cement.

Without saying anything, we got straight to work.

They pulled loose vines from the wall, finding sturdy ones to make a pulley method with, while I grabbed fallen ivy from the floor and created a vest to tie around Alby's chest. Every so often I leaned closer to his chest, checking for a sign he was still circulating air through his lungs.

Another low moan came from the same corridor as before. And just like before, we all wasted precious time circling our heads towards the detonation.

They managed to loop one loose vine through another and attached the bottom of the plant to the vest I had made.

"Ready?" I asked, looking to the boys who were in a position to pull Alby up.

They both nodded.

"Go," I advised, holding Alby's body straight.

They were hesitant at first, but yanked the vine. Thankfully, it held.

They grunted with every pull, gaining only a few feet. The physical exertion was tough, and after Alby started to hang safely in the air, I ran over to help. I fortified myself as I gripped the rope tightly, jerking it every time Thomas reached "1" on his countdown to pull.

I hardly even realized it was pitch black. My eyes comfortably adjusted to the dimness of the maze.

Another yank, and another, just a little more and we could stabilize him by tying the vine to a thicker one at the bottom of the thick growth of ivy.

There was a creaking noise as the maze started to move, but I ignored it, accustomed to its noise. Cement scraping against cement sent chills up my spine, but I continued to pull the vine.

Minho, unexpectedly, stopped pulling.

"Minho, what are you doing?!" I grunted loudly. "We can't hold this."

I could already feel the vine slipping between my hands.

He leaned back, and used the vine to swing around, peering around one of the maze openings. A section opened up due to the modifications of the maze, and Minho panicked. "We gotta go!"

"No!" Thomas protested. "No no no…!"

"WE HAVE TO GO!" He shouted at us now.

"Just a little more Minho! We have to tie it off!"

Minho started to tremble. His eyes were wider then I had ever seen, practically bulging out of their sockets, and he used the vine to peer around the corner again. Whatever he saw caused him to let out a loud "WOAH!" Right by my ear. I winced, but tried to refrain from looking in the direction Minho was. Part of me felt like darting it out of here, but the other part of me knew I should stay. Alby was a dick sometimes, but he didn't deserve to die. He didn't deserve to be left behind by betraying friends.

"Minho! Calm down, just hold on for a sec!" I yelled.

"Just a little more, we're almost there." Thomas assured Minho.

"Sorry Greenie…" He whisper-shouted.

"What?" Thomas and I both turned to Minho, but he was already booking it in the other direction.

Thomas and I swung forward, our feet skidding against the floor due to the sudden loss of strength.

"MINHO!" Thomas yelled.

"Florence!" He paused, half way down the corridor now. His hands cupped around his mouth as he tried to yell something to me. "Come on!" He nodded down a hall, "Leave the shuck face. Let's go!"

My lips tightened into a line as I looked from him to Thomas, still struggling to hold onto the vine as we slid forward.

"Florence!" He hissed, "We don't have time to wait! Let's go!"

MY heart was splitting in two as Minho begged for me to come with him, while Thomas' pleading eyes placidly hoped I'd stick with him.

"FLORENCE!" He yelled again, causing me to shake myself out of the dilemma-enthused stupor. "AH!" He yelled in frustration, sprinting off down a hallway after I took too long to decide. What I felt was anger towards Minho, was now pity. He was so hopeless and believed we were all doomed to fail.

Not that I didn't agree with him, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to put up one hell of a fight.

The clicking sound came first. Then the strident screech, much closer this time.

"No no no…" I whispered, feeling like Minho now.

"Just a little higher, Florence, come on. Help me," Thomas begged.

I nodded, yanking the ivy with the last strength I had left. I was sweating from the physical exertion, and the fear. I grunted with ever pull, and groaned when Alby's body only moved up a few inches. We needed Minho's strength, and his knowledge of the maze, but he ditched us.

Another loud, bone-chilling howl.

Too close, this time.

"Thomas, we need to hide." I told him. "It's close."

He nodded; sweat falling in beads from his hair. I looked up to Alby who hung there, seemingly comatose in the air.

Another haunting screech filled the maze, and I almost broke into a puddle of tears. It was just around the corner. I could see the red and yellow lights reflecting off a puddle.

"Go, Thomas!" I pushed him into the thick vines. He was still visible, though. I groaned, kneeling to the floor. If we went underneath the plants, we could possibly seep ourselves deeper for more camouflage.

We did just that.

Thomas' back was against the maze wall, lying horizontally. I was in front of Thomas, holding the vine with all my potency. Thomas hands were just above mine, clenched into fists as he gripped the ivy tight.

It was _excruciatingly _awkward. We were in a spooning position. We were so close; I could hear his heartbeat in my ear. His chin rested on my head, while my head was lying on the cold, damp, cement floor.

But I didn't care about the position we were in, I only cared about surviving.

Thomas panting breaths were loud and shaky. His knees were like rubber, and his heavy, fast breathing sounded more like whimpers than anything else.

"SHH!" I hushed him, letting one hand slip from the vine (my body was on top of it, so it would hold) and placing it behind me, over Thomas' mouth.

I heard him gulp, and then the heavy breaths continued, quieter now that my hand was over his mouth.

I tried to focus on my ragged breathing and the pounding rhythm of my heart, but it was hard once I saw the metal limb of a griever scrape against the cement floor beside me.

It whirred and clicked as it passed us, its lights illuminating the dark hallway. The mechanical noises of its body excessively working were eerie. I looked to Thomas, whose eyes were wide now, and I released my hand from his mouth, looking back to the griever.

Its hiss was demon like, and the way it carried its sluggish body was grisly.

It screeched, pausing as it got close to us. Another howl, and then it passed us, earning relieving sighs from Thomas and I.

We waited another minute, silent until we were absolutely sure it was gone.

"Oh my God…" He breathed, barely perceptible. His head relaxed on top of mine, and I grimaced. I slid myself back under the cluster of vines and gripped the rope as I helped myself stand vertical in the maze. I checked the coast for any signs of grievers and gave Thomas a nod to confirm it was clear.

He sighed reluctantly again, and then slid from underneath the vines to join me.

I couldn't help but think about Minho. I prayed he was doing okay. I hadn't heard any screams, so maybe he was still alive.

"Look," I nodded to a thick root growing from the cement floor, wedging through two pieces of concrete. "There."

Thomas gave a weak smile, thankful for any last string of hope we were given with, and ran towards the root. We did a sailor knot, one I remember my dad taught me, and tied the vine to the root. It was completely sturdy and Alby was still alive, safe and sound. Well, safe as you can be in a maze fell of deadly creatures.

A loud growl interrupted our cheerful parade. It hadn't noticed us, but we noticed it. We ran around the side of the wall, the one where the previous griever came out, and hid behind it like two snipers ready to make a kill.

Thomas was closest to the corner, while I was beside him, my back pressed so roughly against the maze walls I'm sure it would bruise.

Thomas looked to me, and I remained stolid, bug eyed at him. I held a hand to my mouth, covering the small whimpers that tried to escape as I heard the griever slowly creep down the corridor. We should have stayed hidden in the vines. Would they have found us? Who knows, but it looks like we would have had a better chance of surviving. Now there was no way we could hide again without it seeing us.

Thomas' face contorted in fear, and he repeatedly licked his petite lips, listening for the sound of the griever as his chest heaved for air due to the lack of oxygen and physical exertion.

His face relaxed seconds later.

"Is it gone?" I whispered.

"Shh!" He cut off, his face transforming into something more wary. He slowly moved his head around the corner of the maze wall, his eyes just peeking over the cement. He let out a long-undergone sigh as his head fell back, leaning against the ivy-plastered cement.

I sighed too, realizing it was gone after he nodded in confirmation.

Thomas fleeted from the maze wall, moving around the corner to check if Alby was still stable and secured. I followed him, cautiously, tiptoeing.

"Looks good," I applauded quietly.

He threw me an exasperated smile, and I gravely smiled back, knowing no one should smile in a situation like this.

The sound of a low buzz, un-griever like, caught my attention. A red light flickered on and off, like a police car and it hummed louder. Next to Alby, scaling across his body, was a beetle blade. Its eyes fixed on us. Its spindly legs, similar to grievers, inched across his body like a spider.

"It's watching us," Thomas stated an already-known fact.

"I know," I replied, out of breath still.

"How long'd it take to make those things?" He asked, finally taking his eyes off the mechanical bug.

"Nearly two years," I replied, internally killing myself as I thought about the circumstances now.

After another short moment of buzzing, the beetle blade hastily scuttled off in the opposite direction.

Another daunting howl emitted far from us as the maze continued to change. Cement against cement, it crunched like two rocks being smashed together.

"What now?" Thomas asked, his eyes locked on me.

I shrugged, "Don't look at me. I don't know klunk about this maze. You and Teresa were the only one that knew."

His brows leisurely pulled together. "Teresa…" He didn't say at as a question, just repeated the name, like he was trying to remind himself or something, or like he was taking a mental note of it, hoping the name would resurface at a later date.

I jumped at the howl that was so menacingly close.

It completely interrupted Thomas' train of thought, thankfully, and we ducked back behind the same wall again.

Wanting to ebb further into the maze, we backed up in the hallway until there was another turn, and we went down that corridor. There was a dead end to our left, and another section opening up to our right. For camouflaging sake, we darted to the dead end, which now that I thought about it, was a bad idea.

Being the coward that I am, I hid behind Thomas, letting him keep the lookout for the horrific beasts.

"Ew…" He remarked, causing me to scan him all over. He shook his foot as a large bridge of green goop slung itself from his foot to the floor. It looked like a giant puddle of snot, and he wiped his foot clean against the corner of the maze wall.

We searched for any other sign of the snot-like substance.

I found some on the wall (Unfortunately I found it the hard way— by touching it) and I grimaced. "Yuck…" I stuck my tongue out, holding my hand out in front of me.

Confusion struck me first when a cord of the snotty substance started to come from the sky, falling in my hand like a faucet with water. "What the…" I commented, looking up.

I wish I hadn't looked up.

Standing above me, its pokey legs somehow resting comfortably on the cement like a spider, was a ghastly, slug-like Griever. It looked like something you'd see in your nightmares, or in a horror movie. A purring sound started getting faster, and louder.

"RUN!" I screamed, just as it jumped onto the maze floor.

It howled in our faces. This was the first time I had gotten a close up of the creature. Its black, beady eyes seemed unreal, and the cluster of teeth it had made me want to put braces on the creature, especially because of the overbite. Its skin was wrinkly, like an old person, or a raisin, but it was slicked with the same green goop I had acquired on my hands.

I bumped into Thomas as we shifted into a sprint, causing him to scream loudly.

Left, right, left, right. We ran down every corridor, occasionally facing dead ends, but luckily, the creatures were dumb as klunk on a stick and we could easily slide under their large bodies and dart the other way. Our screw ups caused us to lose time, and same from the griever.

If one of us tripped, we'd be a goner.

Throbbing with adrenaline, Thomas and I pushed ourselves further and farther, but I could already start to feel my chest tightening up due to the action. I sifted into my pocket, quickly glancing back at the creature gaining on us, and fished out the inhaler Newt had tossed me the night of Thomas' bonfire. I hastily puffed too medicated breaths into my mouth, than shoved it back in my pocket.

"Thank God for Newt…" I breathed, knowing I'd have 0% of a chance of surviving if he hadn't gifted me the inhaler that came up in The Box with Thomas. I instantly felt relief, and kept pushing myself to run faster.

With sucking, heaving breath's, Thomas took the lead, whizzing down each passage like he had run the maze for years, like he was a Maze Running Veteran.

I wanted to halt; I wanted to puke, but not as much as I wanted to live.

He skidded as we rounded one corner, and I had just gained enough speed to hook my arms underneath him and shove him forward to run again.

I let out small gasps after every lunging step, and couldn't help but look back.

"KEEP RUNNING!" Thomas yelled over the whirring and clicking of the griever. Its sickly spikes harpooned the floor, causing cement pebbles to explode out of the ground. It kept hissing appallingly.

Thomas let out a small scream as he almost toppled over again, but stopped himself. There was a long, straight corridor for a few yards long, with left and right turns all around it. We were near the middle of the maze by the looks of it.

We ran down the long course, but were halted as another griever came from one of the right turns. Swiftly, we turned left, and I struggled to keep up pace.

Right, left, another right. The griever lost some track on us, causing us to gain just a miniscule amount of hope. Thomas entered another fork, four passages, unclear if any other were dead ends. We just staggered around like deer's in headlights, debating where to turn, our minds jumbled from the situation we were enduring. Everything was moving too fast for us to process, and I leaned over to spit a mouthful of puke out.

"We gotta keep going!" He said as I heaved. I spat, and followed him as he chose the same path we were headed on. I bumped into him when he skidded to a stop, seeing the white light's reflect on the wall.

We turned left, seeing another griever.

"Shit…." He cursed, turning back to the way we came. Unfortunately, a griever made itself present, pausing to scream in our faces again. A picked up a large rock from the floor, and aimed for its face. It went sailing into its mouth, and instead of spitting it out, or screaming, it started to eat it. Its teeth grinded against the concrete rock, chewing it like it was a hard candy.

Thomas turned back to our first option, and saw an opportunity. A large chunk of the maze wall, old and ivy-infested, was on the floor, resting like a dead log.

Without thinking, he started sprinting. He used the large boulder to leap himself higher, and he clung to the ivy as he went sailing towards the wall. He scaled onto another large rock, while he did that, I dived underneath the grievers legs. It was distracted, heading straight for Thomas. Thomas was climbing a large stair-like formation next to me, while I was still on the floor. One griever on his tail, one on mine. We ran side by side, until I was forced to make a left turn, deserting him.

"WOAH!" I heard from above me. Thomas was jumping over top of me, sailing over the large gap he had from his floor of the maze.

I took a right turn, knowing eventually I'd meet with him again.

A large hiss sounded from behind me, and I almost thought I was a goner, until I saw an opening ahead of me. The maze was still changing, and there was a wall ahead of me that was coming to a close. If I could slip through it before the griever got to me, I could return to Thomas and hopefully loose the griever.

I screamed in frustration as I pushed my legs further. The painful cries of my calves embellished, but I ignored them. In one swift movement, I squeezed through the closing gap of a door, and the griever was trapped behind me.

It screamed in anger, and I let out an exasperated smile, jumping in the air. I peered above me, to a higher level of the maze, and scanned for Thomas.

Next to me, was a large ivy wall, similar to the one ALby was, and to the other side of me was a large cliff-like surface.

"WAH!" I heard Thomas groan as he almost fell over the cliff. I bit my lip in fear for him. He ran away from me after stabilizing himself, returning to where he was before. There was an inhuman, hollow, moan, and he ran back. Apparently that idea hadn't worked. His feet scuffed along the cliff, debating wait to do as the griever gained speed on him.

"JUMP!" I yelled, pointing to the ivy walls.

He took a few steps back, and prepared himself. Seconds later, he screamed "AHHHHH!" as he flung through the air, like a dart hitting the board. He fell a few meter's as he slipped between the vines. I positioned myself underneath him in case he fell.

Unanticipatedly, the griever did just the same as him, flying over to the wall to hunt his prey.

"THOMAS LOOK OUT!"

There was a clicking sound as the griever held out one of his appendages. It whirred mechanically as a metallic sleeve opened up its stinger. It was a large, blue syringe, the end of it extremely pointy and lethal. The stinger. It attempted to stab Thomas as it struggled to stay on the wall, but Thomas dodged it.

I bit my nails in fright, watching the whole scenario.

Due to the dodge, Thomas fell another few feet. His arms crawled against the plants, hoping to stay alive and not fall to his death.

The griever, granted with stability now, moved downwards, closer to me, and howled in Thomas' face, causing his hair to flail in its breath.

With a metallic howl, the griever went to stab Thomas again. It lost its footing, and came crashing to the ground, vines coming with it like a fly caught in a web. It was completely entangled in the foliage.

Thomas screamed as he fell with the vines. I thought he had been hurt, or worse, dead, but screaming meant he was still alive. I watched him crawl out of the debris and join me, only awarded with a small cut across his collarbone.

We shifted into another sprint, Thomas taking the lead, as we gained time from the trapped griever.

We both turned to get another last look, making sure the griever was still stuck.

Two limbs suddenly reached out and grabbed both Thomas and I from behind. I shut my eyes, preparing for death, but flashed them open when Thomas yelled "DUDE!"

It was Minho. Minho was back with us. He was alive. I couldn't help but smile triumphantly.

"You crazy son of a bitch!" He swore at Thomas, "And you—" he said, still holding my arm, "You are—"

He was cut off by the griever's hiss, informing us that he was free.

"Alright come on!" Minho yelled, "Follow me!" Come on!" He tugged my shirt, still holding my bicep as we scrambled to a dash.

I wasn't sure why he was still holding me, he wasn't holding Thomas, maybe to make sure I kept up in pace, being the slowest one and all. But why did he care if I died? I only held them back anyways. I was dead weight. I searched my pocket for the inhaler again, and pressed the button to release another puff of its medicine.

I shrugged his grip off as we slowed to a jog.

The crunching noise emitted again, echoing off the walls like a threat.

"It's changing," Minho panted, "The maze is changing again." He continued down the same passage, not grabbing my arm this time. "Come on come on come on come on!" He repeated over and over. Minho took the lead, Thomas behind him, and me behind Thomas.

I bit my lip, finding a hard time to resist the urge to look back.

Stupidly, I tripped over my own feet, diminishing adjacent to the maze floor. I bashed my knee, hearing a small cracking clamor. I wailed in pain but my cry was drowned out by the sound of the advancing griever. Minho and Thomas kept running, unable to hear me.

Neither of them naively looked back like I did, but I wish they had. I scrambled to stand, trying to ignore the pain, but before I knew it, the griever stood over me.

Its spindly legs stabbed the floor as it growled, eyes fixed on me.

Oh God.

I was going to die.

I was about to die.

This was my life. I had watched the world burn into flames, I had witnessed everyone I loved be taken away from me, I had aided in a inhumane experiment, and know I was going to be executed by a giant slug-spider.

I hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye to Newt.

Newt's face flashed into my mind, etched into my brain. I closed my eyes, wanting him to be the last thing that I saw.

At least I wasn't dyeing in vain. I believed the others would make it out.

"HELP!" I tried to scream, my eyes fluttering open again in one last fighting hope, but it hissed again, drowning out my cry.

The griever attempted to stab once of its legs into me, but I rolled over on the floor, dodging it. It tried again, but I rolled the other way.

"_MINHOOOOOOO_!" I yelled, louder than I had ever yelled before. They had to hear me, now. I had never vocalized something so loudly before. I heard their rapid footsteps slow as I tried to dodge another attempt at butchery. I tried to scoot backwards, but it scooted forward with me.

It raised another one of its metallic, spindly, legs in the air, and it came crashing down. I shielded my face with my arms, but it didn't hit my arms, or my face… nor my chest, or hands, or feet.

I heard the sickly squish as the metal entered the flesh of my thigh, and screamed. Then I felt the pain. The agonizing, torturous, excruciating tenderness followed quickly. Despite my accident-prone nature, I had never even broken a bone, let alone be stabbed by a genetically modified lab-created metallic spider-slug.

Its leg ripped through my thigh muscle, slashing at my raw skin. If I didn't pass out from the pain, I would surely die from the blood loss.

The tremendous pain of my harpooned thigh made me cry, tears falling from my eyes. The griever attempted to shake me off of its foot, like a person who stepped on animal klunk and tried to shake it off.

"NOOOOOO!" I cried as my body flew up in the air, my thigh ripping further as my immovable body stuck to its metal limb. I could feel a few tendons snap, and my skin rip.

Of course, now they came sprinting towards me, as I was facing death.

"NO!" I wailed. "GO!" I pointed. "Leave me… You have to leave me. You'll die Minho!" I cried, "Take Thomas, run!"

They both looked torn. The more they waited, the closer they were to facing death.

"Please," my voice was hoarse and hollow. I had never wanted something more in my life then I wanted them to leave me right now. We didn't all deserve to die.

I screamed again as the griever tried to shake me off again, my body soaring with its leg.

Due to the amount of massacre it had done to my leg, it ripped one last piece of skin off and I fell to the floor, my body smacking against the cement. Luckily, it wasn't a hard fall, but now the griever's eyes were on them.

Taking action, Thomas grabbed a large rock. He yelled something at Minho that I couldn't hear, and then hurled the rock at the griever. Just like before, it went straight into its mouth. As its teeth grinded and chopped the large boulder, Minho dived underneath it and hooked his arms underneath my pits, hauling me far enough until Thomas could help.

"You shuck faces should have left me!" I screamed at them as Thomas helped to haul me. Tears fell from my eyes, and I let out an agonized whimpers as they readjusted me. My arms were over their soldiers, while my legs dragged against the cement floor. My thigh felt numb, due to the adrenaline pumping through me. I don't know if I enjoyed the numbing sensation, or if I was fearful of it.

We paused as we looked at another corridor that was opening up, and my legs whacked against a step as we climbed a two-step flight of stairs. Minho looked left, then right, and darted down the passage.

I groaned as my thigh started to throb again. I was already feeling fatigued.

"You have… to leave me…" I panted.

"Shut your shuck face Florence!" Minho blew up, his head zapping around for another escape route.

I didn't even have the energy to talk anymore.

Left, right, left, and another junction.

The chomping noise got louder, and Minho nodded towards a _long _corridor. "This sections closing, come on!" he yelled, "We can lose it down here."

The revving of the gears working in the wall got louder as one wall slowly crept towards the other. I fell from Thomas grip, and Minho looked back to see that Thomas had stopped.

He grunted, wrapping one arm underneath me and secured one of my arms around his shoulder. "Shuck face!" He yelled at Thomas, "Come on!"

He kept running, not waiting for Thomas, who was stupider then ever right now. Why had he stopped? We made it to the clearing, where the passage wasn't closing and the new section was, and turned to face Thomas. He was still in the closing channel, darting around, his head looking at the gears, to the gaining griever, then to us.

"Thomas!" I shrieked at him, "Hurry!"

"What are you waiting for?!" Minho shouted in disbelief. "Get out of there!"

The griever, who was now just in front of Thomas, paused. He roared in his face, the familiar goop spewing everywhere.

"COME ON!" Thomas taunted the bloodthirsty griever.

Like the griever was answering his request, he scaled along the walls, its bloody spikes stabbing the wall to leap further and gain speed Thomas.

"COME ON THOMAS!" I bellowed.

"DON'T LOOK BACK!" Minho added.

Thomas staggered back and forth as he ran. The doors, like magnets, slowly crept together, minimizing the space. It reminded me of when we bolted through the maze doors. His body barely squeezed through the two walls as it continued to come together.

The griever was so close. Three feet, two, one….

"COME ON THOMAS!" Minho screamed in my ear. "THOMAS, COME ON!"

"RUN!" I told him.

Minho roared Thomas' name one last time before the doors finally came together, shutting for good.

**A/N: DUN DUN DUHHH!**

**Thanks for the reviews from HarleyHolmes, Mina Luriya, steggy4ever (Thanks for the lengthy review, glad you like it!), kuiperlight (I'm glad you thought it was intense :)), Guest (ha), ChubbyBuni, darklou, sarah0406, OFBLOODANDROSES, and InvisibleSoul4(your review made me laugh).**

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**I have a feeling you'll really enjoy the next chapter guys ;) **

**At least I hope so...**

**Enjoy! R&amp;R please.**


	19. Her

For once, Newt felt utterly weak. He could feel his rubbery knees tremble beneath him as he looked at the doors. He couldn't hold his own body weight, and his shaky legs collapsed, causing him to crash to the floor.

"_NOOOO!_" He wailed, to no one in particular.

Other boys grabbed him, poking him and trying to pick him up, but he wouldn't let them. His knees trudged in the heavy mud caused from the rainfall earlier, and his fists pounded the maze doors, hoping for any sign of life on the other side.

This couldn't be happening.

He felt an overwhelming amount of emotions.

He felt pain. He felt betrayal. He felt jealousy. Nausea pains hit his stomach like a punch to the gut, and all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and think about _her._

He couldn't catch a breath; he just kept gulping mouthfuls of saliva down, trying to suppress the sobs. He was breathless, and not in the good way. It was like a supernatural vacuum has sucked all the air out of the glade and he was left with only a few breaths.

He was too far gone to even cry. Tears never formed, his eyes were as dry as the desert. His heart tried to crawl away from the pain, but it was caged, trapped inside his body like a prisoner.

The world stopped after a few minutes of his incessant shouting. All noise ceased to exist and the only thing he could hear was the beating of his own heart.

His heart shattered into a million pieces, like a broken mirror. But instead of seven years of bad luck, he was cursed with a lifetime. A lifetime without his best friends. Slintheads, they might be, but still his best friends. But that wasn't the worst part.

A lifetime without _her._

How could he live with himself?

He had all these questions, some gladers even made them verbal.

"Why did she go with him?"

"Are they shucking stupid?!"

"Think they'll live?"

When he had the slightest bit of strength left, he got to his knees, half a foot deep in a puddle of mud, now. His fists pounded against the door.

Five minutes passed, ten minutes.

He kept shouting her name, he kept screaming indecipherable gurgles. Spit flew from his mouth, and later, the tears came. The only thing he could do to release at least the slightest bit of agony was cry. The other gladers eventually gave up on trying to stop him from hurting himself, to stop him from screaming.

Fifteen minutes passed, half an hour.

His strength weakened, but his fists still slammed heavily against the doors. The rest of the gladers left, leaving him alone to writhe in the mire and his own sorrows. They didn't lose, not one, not two, not three but **four** gladers. One of which was her.

An hour passed, and he finally gave up. Blood painted his knuckles, the raw skin ripped from the rough cement of the doors.

Another hour passed, and he just sat there. He was dried out of tears, and his nose ran like crazy. Jeff came over to check how he was, but he didn't have te strength to reply. He just stared, at the same spot forever. He felt to weak to move, to say anything, or to even breathe. Jeff checked his vitals, and he shined a small light in his eyes. After realizing that Newt was somewhat okay, he left him alone.

Chuck joined him later. He didn't say anything as he approached the boy, just sat beside him. His back against the maze doors, while his front faced the rest of the glade.

They sat there, for what seemed like forever.

* * *

It was disgusting, really. Newt watched Chuck through the window of his and Florence's room, observing as Chuck positioned himself, his hands folded underneath his chin while he sat cross legged in front of the doors. He was so sure they were going to make it, he had so much hope. It was admirable, but also messed up.

They weren't going to make it back.

There was no way.

What to know what annoyed him the most? The most annoying thing was Florence. Florence had begged Newt to come back into the glade that day he ran off to kill himself again. Florence dragged him, with the help of Minho, back to the glade, after he protested like it was the last thing he could do.

Florence made him promise not to leave her.

And he promised her.

But he didn't make her promise him, and now he wished he did. He left her. She made him promise not to leave, and she left him, with Thomas.

As much as he wished he could have darted in there to save Minho and Alby, he fought that urge. He purged the idea for the sake of the glade. He would be the only leader they had left. He didn't think he could handle that pressure, but with Florence to support him, he could. But now even she wasn't there.

His mind kept racing with these thoughts, like a racehorse who had just took off. He was the jockey, trying to make sense of the situation. But not even rational, balance, Newt, could think of a reason as to why they would so stupidly enter the maze.

He curled up into the blankets of his hammock, alone, with the smell of her strawberry-scented hair lingering on the small pillow.

The glade was silent; the only sound was the chirping crickets in the distant and the animated livestock.

The last thing he heard before slipping into oblivion was a name. "_MINNNHOOOOO_" it said, ever so faintly. He knew that voice anywhere. It was hers. His eyes shut tightly, and forcibly, in fear and in sorrow. Just as his conciseness ebbed away, he heard a loud scream. It came from close to the front of the maze. Again, it was hers. It shrieked "_NOOOOOOOOOOOO_" until finally, it severed and he heard the low, daunting shriek of a griever, broadcasting its victory.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter was so short, I just thought doing a chapter from Newt's point if view in the glade would be fun. YAY A HUNDRED REVIEWS! Thanks to everyone. Thanks to the recent reviewers InvisibleSoul4 (YAY TEN DUCKS), HarleyHolmes, oreo8u9453, steggyforever, ChpNinjaChick, and OFBLOODANROSES.**

**The reviews have been getting longer and I really appreciate that, thank you!**

**Also, about the last chapter: I think them surviving the whole night in the maze without even a scratch was unrealistic, so that's why Florence is in the predicament she is ;)**

**Tell me what you want to see in future chapters, and feel free to PM me anytime :)**

**R&amp;R, thanks!**


	20. A Trade

We were still alive. Barely, but somehow, we were all still alive.

Not only had we lived, but Thomas had killed a griever. A shucking griever. The doors closed with a giant crunch as the griever got squished between the two walls, a few limbs and copious amounts of green goop coming from the walls.

We found a safe spot just outside of the doors, in a dead end, and luckily, no more grievers came. Except one, but we went unnoticed.

There had been a point in the night when I cried. Thomas did too, briefly. It was scary, and physically and mentally exhausting.

I laid between the shoulders of Minho and Thomas, crushed between the two, while my head rested on Minho. Our backs were against the concrete while our legs were in front of us. Every five minutes he would shove me, making sure I was awake. He kept asking if I was still alive. To be honest, I didn't care anymore. But I guess if we made it this for, I could push a little further to keep my eyelids open.

My leg bled heavily. A pool started to form beneath our legs, but no one moved. We were all fatigued from the physical exertion. Me especially, considering the amount of blood I was losing. I was in shock, but there was nothing we could do. My skin was sickly pale, my face covered in sweat, while my heartbeat fluttered rapidly.

As soon as the maze section closed off and we were safe Minho ripped a sleeve off of his shirt and tightly wrapped it around the epicenter of my bleeding wound.

When the sun started to lift high in the sky, I felt hopeful. I was hopeful for all of us, the whole glade. If the three or us survived a whole night in the glade, maybe we could escape this place sooner rather than later. I could live, we could all live. Maybe Alby was still alive, and I could see Newt!

Newt: The only person who kept me from shutting her eyes, from ending it all.

Minho grunted as he stood up from his position. He looked tired, and he had bags under his eyes, deep, purple, zombie-like bags. Thomas did too, but not as noticeable and horrid-looking as Minho. "The doors'll open in ten minutes. It should take us five to walk back. Maybe a little longer."

I nodded, although I wasn't sure if they even caught my slight head movement.

Thomas stood, dusting himself off as he straightened his clothes; he did a little bounce to stretch his stiff muscles, then placed his hands on his hips. We were all stained with blood—mostly mine—and dirt.

"Come on Florence," Minho kneeled to my height as I gave him a sour frown. "You've made it this far."

I sucked in a breath, preparing myself for the pain.

Thomas crouched down to my level and Thomas and Minho exchanged a look.

"Ready?" Thomas asked.

I nodded, biting my lip.

Each of them fastened one arm on my bicep, and the other on my waist.

I let out a small scream as they lifted me to a standing position.

"It hurts it hurts it hurts!" My hoarse voice cried, cracking in the middle. "Shuck," I bit my lip harder, almost drawing blood. "It hurts…" Tears fell from my eyes in pain.

"I know," Minho groaned, sliding an arm underneath my armpit.

"We're sorry," Thomas finished for him, replicating the same posture Minho did.

We took a while to get back to where Alby was. My leg dragged lifelessly behind me, while my other one hopped, never ceasing its painful cries to stop from the physical exertion.

The surrounding tissues and the ripped muscles on my legs were swollen and sore. Every slight movement I made caused me to either grind my teeth together or let out a painful grunt or cry. The sharp pain was too much to handle, and blood continued to ooze like a leaking sink with every step.

It took us longer than expected to get back. I hadn't heard the doors open yet, but they would open any minute now.

"I can't believe it," Minho said as we approached Alby, still hanging lifelessly in the cluster of ivy. "We made it the whole night. Seriously, man. Never been done before, but we did it."

We were all reveling in that new fact. We weren't exactly happy, but we felt accomplished.

"What did we do differently?" Thomas asked as he let go of me, and I clung to Minho.

Minho shrugged, causing me to wince. "I don't know. It's kind of hard to ask a dead guy what he did wrong."

I snorted as Thomas started hoisting Alby back down to earth.

"Is he alive?" I asked Thomas as Alby lowered to the ground, his limp leg's hitting the pavement.

Thomas shrugged.

"Up until tonight, no one's ever survived a night in the maze, so I'm feeling pretty optimistic about Alby's survival rate right now," Minho answered, "We just assumed that no one who makes it back before sunset and is stung can survive, we just assumed that was the point of no return— when it's too late to get the grief serum."

"Things change, I guess." I added, "Apparently, we've been wrong about a lot of things and things are being done that haven't been done before."

"True that," Minho replied smugly.

"Alright," Thomas dismissed our previous subject, "How are we gonna go about this?" He looked from me to Minho.

"One of us carries girly here, the other lugs Alby." Minho retorted.

"Should I just prop him over my shoulders, like a piggy back, sort of?"

Minho nodded, "It's only a minute or two back to the doors."

"Alright," Thomas nodded.

Minho briefly let go of me to set Alby up on Thomas' back. There was no sign of movement from ALby, but he still had a beating heart and a working set of lungs. Thomas grunted, swaying back and forth while the heavy boy relaxed on top of his shoulders, his head slinging lifelessly forward.

Despite our painful bodies and screaming muscles, we tried to pick up the pace.

The maze doors roared open with a thunderous sound like they usually did.

It all really set in place, then. We just had to turn one more corner, and then we'd be back home. Or what we called home, anyways. It was the closest thing I had to home since the sun flares destroyed the earth.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw movement ahead as we turned the last corner. Chuck stood there, pointing at us. Zart was beside him, gawking at us, while a few other gladers came sprinting towards the doors.

Relief washed through me, and I found myself smiling, triumphantly.

"YES!" Chuck cheered, fist pumping in the air "YEAH!"

The other gladers, overcoming the shock, started smiling as they neared the doors.

A few of the gladers grimaced at my leg, others making gagging gestures, but for the most part most of them were happy. As soon as we stepped back into the maze, we were basically trampled. Thomas lowered Alby to the floor, while Minho unhooked my arm from around his neck so I could stand on one foot alone.

"What happened?"

"Is Alby alive?"

"What's with Florence's leg?"

"Are we going to have to chop it off?"

"How'd you survive?"

"You saw a griever?" It was hard to hear Chuck's question over the bombardment of questions and babbles, along with the chattering bodies hovering over an unconscious Alby.

"Yeah," Thomas panted, wiping seat off his forehead.

Minho, who was one of the groups of gladers lingering over Alby, looked up to Chuck. Everyone went silent as he spoke. "He didn't just see it." Minho told them, heaving breaths just like Thomas.

"He killed it," I finished for him, causing everyone to look at me.

The babbles broke out again, but my mind wandered from the jabber's of the boys. Instead, my eyes scanned for Newt. There were only about twenty boys around us, but the ones who weren't in the large group with us by the doors were starting to notice us and walk over.

Still, I saw no Newt.

I looked to Clint, hoping he could give me an answer, but he was in work mode, checking over Alby with Jeff beside him.

"Woah, you okay?" Someone put a hand on my shoulder, and my vision blurred as I looked to the voice. Marcus, surprisingly. "You don't look so good…"

"Yeah…" I breathed, "Yeah, I'm fine, just feeling tired."

"From blood loss, most likely." Veer vocalized, stepping out of the crowd towards me.

"Where's Newt?" I asked him, ignoring their remark.

"Homestead, probably. He's been in there since last night. Didn't believe you guys would make it." Veer brushed a hand through his dark hair.

I pivoted, wincing at the pain as my leg turned, and squinted my eyes as I looked to homestead. I shielded my eyes from the blazing sunlight and tried to narrow in on the homestead, hoping for any sign of movement.

"Get the grief serum!" I heard someone yell, and a few gladers, along with Jeff, ran off with Alby's body taking off towards the Med-Jack hut.

"Look, Florence," Veer forced me to look back at him, "You need to go to the Med-Jack hut with Clint. You look like klunk."

"Thanks,Veer." I rolled my eyed, feeling dizzy from the movement though. "Spending a night in the maze and getting stabbed by a griever does that to a person."

He tried to hide his smile as he shook his head, "I'll go grab Newt, if you really want me to."

"I really want you to," I stared at him, unblinking, waiting for him to go fetch Newt.

He gave me a funny look, as if not expecting I would say yes, then started jogging towards the unstable building.

"Florence, come with me." I turned to Clint, who was trudging towards me. "We have to get that cleaned and fixed up before it gets infected, or worse."

"Or worse?" I shivered at my repetition of Clint's words, "Just give me a sec," I told him.

"No," He objected sternly, placing his hands on his hips as he approached me, "Now. We need to stop the bleeding and stitch it up. I don't know how much skin we can salvage."

I widened my eyes, was it that serious? I mean, the pain felt that serious. I just didn't want to lose my leg over this.

"Am I going to lose my leg?" I asked him, jokingly of course as I raised my brows.

He deadpanned.

I went bug-eyed.

"Am I going to die?"

"Hopefully not…" He trailed off, looking at the ground.

"Clint—"

"You're not going to die if you come with me right now, so let's go." He cut me off, serious demeanor returning.

I bit my lip, my bloody, split, chapped, rusty-tasting lip, and I felt more nervous then I had in the maze.

I groaned as I started to move again, leaning against Clint's shoulder.

We only took a few steps, before someone called my name again. My head revolved to where the voice came from, behind me. It was Minho, and he was smirking.

I felt Clint let go of me, and I frowned at him, wondering why on earth he wasn't going to help me walk to the hut. I certainly wasn't capable of doing it myself.

"Hey Girly," Minho addressed me again. My frown relaxed when I turned back to him.

"What?" I asked, noticing the quick dispersal of gladers. Only Veer, Thomas, Minho, Clint and I were left. Veer and Thomas were chatting, while Clint walked over to them, joining the reminiscing of last night's events via Thomas.

"What?" I asked another time when he didn't answer.

Instead of responding, he lifted a finger, and pointed it in the opposite direction.

My brows furrowed together as I followed the aim of his finger, towards the corner of the glade. The light of the sun blinded me, and it took a while for my pupils to dilate and my eyes to focus on the shadowed figure sprinting towards me.

Eventually, the figure started to manifest itself properly and I figured out who it was. A smile formed on my lips, growing wider with each growing step the figure took. It was Newt.

The expression on his face was unreadable. Mad? Happy? Sad? I didn't care. His body slammed into mine, causing me to release a small "Ow", but him wrapping his arms around me and lifted me in the air, spinning once, made up for it.

I could smell his familiar musky scent that I had longed for last night, and I nuzzled my face deep into his shoulder. That's why Clint had released me. He saw Newt coming.

"I thought you were dead…" His voice was cracked and muffled through my hair. The hoarse severity of his voice gave me just a taste of how much he missed me. I could feel his warm breath on my neck, and I had a hard time ignoring the ticklish feeling of my hair brushing across my neck as he exhaled.

"Surprise," I tried to laugh.

He released me, but his hands remained on my shoulders.

"What the bloody hell happened to your leg!?" He asked after giving me an once-over.

"We match!" I attempted to joke again, looking down at my leg. "I thought I'd fashion the same look as you, you know, since all the cool glades are wearing it. An the cute ones too."

He made a judicious face at me. I gave him a smile in return.

"Why didn't I get a greeting like that, Slinthead?" We turned to Minho, who was frowning, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I tend to pity the weaker ones," Newt replied.

I smacked his chest.

"Oi!" He squealed, shooting me a roguish but joking look.

"Alright Florence," Clint interrupted, stepping between Newt and I, "Times up."

My bottom lip pulled down as I grimaced at what was about to happen.

"I'm serious, Florence. I'm surprised you haven't fainted yet." His brows pulled together.

Like he had just foreseen the future, the grogginess took over me. My eyelids started to flutter as the black dots spotted my vision, and I tried to say something, but I couldn't hear anything that came out. MY ears popped, and my vision blurred, and I tried to hold my hands out for support. I felt many grips on my body, but couldn't see whose grips they were. The darkness started to cloud my eyes seconds later, and like a movie screen, everything faded to black.

I faded in an out of consciousness for a long while. Pangs of pain ran up my leg, and I stirred back and forth, only to have hands grip me down to a gurney. I saw faces over me. My eyes couldn't focus on identifying who, but people were there.

When I lightened back into consciousness minutes, (or maybe hours), later, I felt groggy. I groaned as my eyelids fluttered opened, wincing at the pain in my leg as I sat up. The only person in the hut was Clint, whose back was turned to me. He was rummaging through the cupboards. He did a double take when e turned around, seeing that I was awake. "Morning sunshine."

I stuck my tongue out at his greeting. "Where is everybody? What happened?"

"A Gathering. They're debating whether to throw you two back to the grievers or not." He replied, rolling a clean tenser bandage back up in his hands.

I widened my eyes. "You serious?"

"Yup," He nodded nonchalantly. "Gally has something against Thomas, I swear." He shook his head in frustration, placing the bandage in one of the sliding drawers. "You guys broke a rule. Gally's pissed that that's the second time you've gotten away with it, but not as pissed as he is at Thomas."

"What'd Thomas ever do to him?"

He shrugged. "Beat's me."

"Should I be worried?"

"Nah," he shrugged off, "Newt's got everything under control—" My heartbeat skipped at his name "Minho will handle everything. He told me his plan."

"Plan?" I questioned, cocking my head to the side.

"Aim high, hit low." He told me with a smirk. "He's going to suggest that Thomas become Keeper of the runners. Since he was the only one in the maze with him— besides you but you were unconscious— he has a say and what happens to Thomas. That way, the worst that'll happen is he get's a night in the slammer. Maybe he'll even become a runner. Totally bias and sexist, but I think you're in the clear. You're wounded, a girl, and Newt's…uh… girl… person…"

I raised my brows high in response to Clint's label of me.

I shrugged it off and peered down at my body. The blanket was draped over my legs; and for the most part, besides the dull ache, my leg felt numb.

"So what's the verdict, Doc?"

His eyes avoided mine as he opened his mouth to speak, organizing different medications in one of the cupboards.

"Want me to lie?" He asked, sucking in a breath.

"Yes," I licked my lips eagerly.

"Not good, Flo."

I blew out a raspberry, my eyes dropping to the sight of my legs again. What I thought was a speckled maroon-colored pattern on the blanket turned out to be blood as I took a closer look at it; most likely my blood considering the unlucky circumstances.

"I can't tell if that was a lie, or not. Does that mean my leg's good? Or were you just ignoring my wish for you to lie," I questioned, trying to stall the disclosure of the state of my wounds.

He ignored me, and turned his back to me as he spoke, making it difficult to hear him. "I gave you some pain killers, and Jeff and I tried our best. It was hard not having a third med-jack…"

"Clint— tell me."

He sighed, his hands gripping the table coarsely in front of him. "It's too late to take your leg off, you've already lost too much blood, and we have nothing big enough to burn the wounds such. We would need a torch or something."

"Clint!" I urged, yelling now.

He whipped around hastily, startling me, and moved to the side of my gurney. He hesitated as his hand griped the beige blanket. Slowly, but surely, he lifted the blanket. I gasped at the site.

Puss, everywhere; stitches… lots and lots of stitches. Blood, old and new, stained my legs, and the bed. That wasn't the worst part. The worst was the retention of blood sitting underneath my thigh, like my skin was slowly starting to melt off. It looked like I had just contracted polio, and fluid started to pool together inside the swelling muscles that managed to make it back in the glade with me.

"Your veins are all messed up. A lot of the main arteries and veins aren't sufficiently connecting," He explained, "Because of all the damage, it ripped apart most of your leg. You're not pumping blood through your body as effectively as you should. It's compartmentalizing the blood, and that's why it looks like that. We thought about doing a transfusion to give you more blood, to help you hold out longer, but no one remembers their own blood type."

"Oh God…" A shaky hand moved to my mouth, covering it.

"We'll figure something out, don't worry." He gave me a weak smile.

_Lie, _I thought.

"Does Newt know?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. They were there for part of it, right after you fainted. You woke up, and starting going delirious, so Minho, Newt, and Veer held you down so Jeff and I could put stitches in, but they had to leave to start the gathering. Jeff left about five minutes ago when we got everything cleaned up."

"Where's Alby?" I asked.

"Homestead," He replied, more hopeful. "We got the grief serum in him. Looks promising. He's going through the changing now."

As if on cue, a scream emitted in the air.

"Marcus is watching him," He reassured after I jerked up, panicked.

"Good." My head bobbed up and down as I looked away from Clint. This was the most time I had spent with him. "So what are we going to do?" I asked Clint, my eyes flickering to my gruesome state.

"Well— it's not that bad right now. You'll still be able to walk… sort of, with the help of someone of course, although I don't condone it. Eventually, slowly, the leg will start to pool more blood together, and you'll have to stay in bed. We'll have to continually flush the wound out because you keep bleeding, and you have a high risk of infection. We'll have to see what happens from there."

_Death._

That's what was going to happen after.

I felt… weird. This wasn't the same feeling I had when I thought I was going to die when the sun flares hit and me and my brother fled the school to live underneath the ground in the subway lines. At least I had some sort of hope then, right now, I didn't. But my train of thought was interrupted by the blaring of a siren. It was loud, and drawn out. It blared, and it hurt my ears. The familiarity of the noise struck me like lighting, and the image of Janson and the bald man throwing m in the maze flashed into my mind.

It was The Box.

"Here," Clint shoved two terribly made crutches my way, before his panic-self darted out of the hut.

It took me awhile to join the group, and I was one of the last, but somehow I budged my way to the front to get a good look. The gravity caused my leg to bleed again, but I ignored it.

All I could think of was The Box.

_Teresa. Teresa. Teresa. _The name chanted in my mind, swirling around. It had to be her. It had to be. Was this the ending? Were the trials coming to a close soon?

The doors automatically opened up, and Gally jumped down a step to unbolt the cage doors that hung over The Box like a holey roof.

The alarm finally stopped blaring after a minute, and we all turned to Newt, our new leader, to see what to do. Who jumps down? Who orders people around? This had never happened before, except with me when I arrived in the middle of the night but at least then they had Captain Alby.

"I'm going down," I decided, handing my crutches to a glader I didn't know.

"What?" Newt frowned, "No. I am."

"Then I'm coming with you," I told him, moving to a sitting position on the edge of The Box.

The next group of gladers joined us, bombarding Newt with questions as he jumped into the box. He helped me down first before turning to the shaking body on the floor.

"Newt, what do you see?" Fry yelled.

Newt and I moved closer to the small body. Black hair, pale skin, average height. It was her.

Newt gazed down at Teresa in front of us, his eyes quickly flashing to me in the process, then gravely faced the crowd. "It's a girl…"He said, "Another one."

"Dibs!"

"Does she look like Florence?"

"How old is she?"

"What's she look like?"

"Are they sisters?"

"Newt got Florence, so I get her." I know Newt hear the last remark, because his eyes locked menacingly to the glader it came from, but he chose not to reply and just looked back down at Teresa.

"That's not the bloody half of it—" Newt vocalized louder, "I think she's dead."

"What's in her hand?" Gally nodded towards her from the floor above us. I hadn't even noticed the slip of paper in her small hand. I gripped the side of the box for support as Newt left my side to go retrieve it.

With trembling hands, he folded the paper open.

I leaned over his shoulder to get a good sight of the words.

"She's the last one ever…" He looked up at the crowd, the sea of confusion growing as everyone expressed marveled looks. "What the hell does that mean?" He made a face.

A sharp gasp set everything in motion. Teresa eyes opened wide,a piercing blew scainng her atmosphere. Everyone jumped at her sudden movement as she took panting breaths. "Thomas…" She said, before her eyes shut tightly closed again. I actually wanted to laugh at how everyone's head, in unison, turned to Thomas. He licked his lips, his eyes darting anywhere but a glader's face. He shifted his weight before finally fixing eyes with a fuming Gally.

"Still think I'm over reacting?" He asked, with a cocked brow. So the Gathering appeared not to be in Thomas' favor. Or mine...

Thomas' gaze fell, and he blinked profusely before finally planting his gaze on Teresa. Peaceful, unconscious, fresh-looking Teresa.

"Alright then—" Newt's voice broke everyone's gaze from Thomas. "Let's get her out of here. Help, boys?" He looked up to Gally. He hopped into the box, causing it to quake with force, and the two of them attempted to lift her unconscious body out. Newt and Gally carried her, while Veer stood back up on the platform above the Box to grab her body. He grunted as he and another glader hoisted her up. He carried her marriage-style, and finally, the crowd started to disperse.

They would grab supplies from the box later, and worry about the warning when we all had the chance, and time, too. First, we had to deal with Teresa.

Gally exited The Box, leaving only him and I. "Woah, what's this?" His hands moved to the floor, and he picked something up.

"Another note…" I frowned at it. It was the picture, again, but with our face scratched out again. This time, they might be able to make out the beings in the picture, which scared me. On the back of the photo wasn't a warning this time, it was an offer.

**Trade?**

This wasn't Janson's writing, but it was just as eerie and terribly written as his.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I peered up at Newt.

His eyes were wide like mine, and I had already anticipated his answer. "I don't know," He responded. "Let's get out of here first."

He crawled up the side of The Box, standing on the platform, then reached his arms down, crossing them over each other, to help hoist me up. I bit my lip, but then hopped forward on one foot, and reached my arms high so I could hold onto his hands.

Just as the pads of my fingers grazed the tips of his, the box jolted.

Panic immediately grew inside me as I stupidly dropped my hands to my side, looking down at the floor that was now an inch from where it was before. "What the f—"

It jolted again, another inch down. With wide eyes, I looked up at Newt. Crate's shifted and supplies poured out of their boxes as the box jerked down again.

"No no no…" Newt whispered, trying to reach his hands further down to me. "Florence, come on. Grab my hands!" He urged. I tried my best to tip toe and reach him, but it was hard with one working leg. I gulped, preparing myself for what was about to happen.

A trade. They were taking me back in exchange for Teresa. Why would they send me in the maze then take me back?

"Florence!" He screamed at me now, "Bloody grab on!"

"I'm trying!" I told him, but it jolted downwards again, causing me to scream a little.

"HELP!" He hollered to the other boys "HELP!"

He turned back to me, and tried leaning further over the box to grab onto me, his whole torso over the edge now. "Come on!" He yelled.

Just as my sweaty palms reached his, The box fell again, causing me to slip through his grasp.

A few gladers finally joined in, and Newt barked orders at them. Like a wheelbarrow race, Veer and Marcus grabbed onto Newt's legs, while he went further down in The Box to retrieve me.

That's when **it** dawned on me. They were taking me back. Away from my bestfriends, and Newt, yes, but maybe they were going to save me. They had the power to.

"Wait!" I screamed, my voice cracking. Instead of grabbing Newt's hands, which were by far reachable now, I pushed him away.

"What the bloody hell are you doing Florence?!" He wiggled his fingers, trying to forcibly pull me up now against my own will. His fingers snaked around one of my wrist, and I felt the force as he tried to pull me up.

The Box jolted again, but this time much farther down then before. Newt was incapable of reaching me, so Veer and Marcus pulled him back up.

"GRAB A VINE!" He screamed, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yelled at the forming sea of gladers around The Box.

I gulped, shutting my eyes as I planted my butt on the steel grate of The Box.

"FLORENCE!" He screamed, making me want to tear myself apart for ditching him not once, but twice. I just had to let The Box take me. They would fix me, and maybe even bring me back. The box took a sudden dip, and despite expecting it, I let out a long scream which coincided with Newt's as I descended back to hell.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter you'll figure out what happens to FLo's leg! Thanks for the reviews from Rachel, Soccergurl248, thedoubleuwu, AliceGirl303, Steggy4ever, TheLadyGeek, kkkkitties, InvisibleSOul4, bad dancer, oreo8u9453.**

**Thanks for your reviews, I want to answer some but I can't give anything away!**

**Enjoy :)**


	21. Sacrifices

**BE AWARE OF THE POINT OF VIEW CHANGE EXPRESSED THROUGH LINE BREAKS.**

* * *

With one last jolt, The Box came to a gradual stop. The lurch caused the floor to shake beneath me, making me collide with one of the boxes that came up with Teresa. The only sound was an annoying whine coming from the chains and pulleys that were slowly coming to a halt.

I was left in the cold and musty air, my arms hugging tightly around my body for warmth until something happened. It was minutes before anything occurred. The door in front of me, that I had been forced through just a month and a few weeks ago, was leisurely opening, with a loud screech. I dreaded the face behind the door, and shielded away from it.

"Kind of you to rejoin us, Florence" I heard Janson's voice before I saw his face.

"Screw you," I puckered my lips together and hocked a giant wad of spit his way.

It landed on his white, formal, laced shoes. Un-phased, he gestured for others to enter The Box. I didn't try to resist their tight grips on me, I simply just let the two men that came in snake their arms around my body and carry me into the warm building.

Janson was closely trailing behind us, the heel of his shoes clicking on the floor, as they carried me away like a prisoner.

"Given the unanticipated circumstances, courtesy of this dumb ass—" He smacked the guy on my right's head, "we had to steal you back."

I looked to my right, seeing a young man, blonde, with chiseled features and a sharp nose. It took me a moment to recognize he was in charge of controlling a few of the grievers, which means he was behind the stabbing pain and the infectious puss in my leg.

"Why'd you force me in the maze in the first place?" I had so many questions cycloning around in my mind, but that was the only one that surfaced.

"You'll find out soon enough," He vaguely answered, moving ahead of us to push open a door.

We exited the building, only to enter another a few yards away. All the building's looked the same at WICKED's headquarters, except for HQ, which was round, like a spindle, with two tall buildings on each end. It was just a cluster of skyscrapers, like a small town.

I shivered as we exited the cold air and entered another warm room.

"Are you going to send me back?" I asked, as two of them lifted me onto a gurney, much comfier then the one in the Med-Jack hut.

"Look—Flo…" He started, like he was about to give me some long speech.

"Don't call me that," I growled. I once looked up to this man, and now I would squash him like a bug in a heartbeat, if I had the chance to.

"Feisty…" He grimaced.

I finally had a chance to scan my surroundings, and I observed where I was. It looked like a hospital room. An operating room, more specifically. I sucked in a gasp as another man entered the room and attached an IV to me. The pain of the spine entering the back of my hand was nothing compared to the throbbing of my leg. I glared at Janson when he smirked devilishly at my tenderness.

"Why are you fixing me?" I asked him, my face lightening up in hopes I would receive some answers for good behavior. "Why don't you just let me die like the other subjects?"

Janson gave me a content smirk as he straightened out his white suit.

"Well?" I pushed, "Answer me— I have to be important or something. Tell me why you're letting me live."

"Oh, sweetie, you're more than just important." He retorted, vaguer then ever.

Another woman, dressed in scrubs with a mask now, placed two hands on my shoulders and made me hop of the gurney. We staggered towards an operating table and she aided in helping me settle comfortably on the table, all while I glared at Janson. The lady attached heart monitor patches on my chest and an oxygen mask, just like the one I used when I had an asthma attack, around my mouth.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, knowing I'd be put under anesthesia soon and have no more time for answers.

He took his sweet ass time replying. He even pulled up a chair and sat down in a seat before he opened his mouth, all while other nurses and doctor's entered the room, awaiting the head surgeon to arrive.

The lady wrapped something around my finger, turned to another nurse, a male, shorter one, and said "Check."

"Janson," I addressed, sternly again. He was playing games with me, and he knew how much I hated it.

"Administer the anesthesia," The male nurse said, and I started to panic.

I breathed in the scent, something similar to nail polish remover, through the mask and tried my best to keep my eyelids open.

"Florence, you're the most important subject. But not to us."

"To who?" I tried to ask, "Who am I important to? Or what?"

The door opening and closing, with a loud slam, caught my attention, as well as the others.

The head surgeon, assumedly, grabbed a pair of latex gloves and pulled them on. "Are we all ready to start the procedure?" His gruff voice vocalized as he looked up to the female nurse who rested her hand on my forearm in a nurturing way.

"We're all clear," she nodded to the man.

The man grabbed a mask and wrapped each elastic around his earlobe, then pinched it to mold around his nose.

"Janson, answer me," I practically yelled as I felt the fatigue from the anesthesia kick in. I felt like I was on a cloud, and I could feel myself slowly drifting off. "Who am I important to?" My words slurred as my eyes darted back to the surgeon. He cranked his neck from side to side then finally looked towards me.

Our eyes locked together, and I froze. His eyes were green, and not just any green the memorable, vivid, unforgettable green from my nightmares.

"Thomas…" Janson finally replied before all cognizant ebbed away and everything went black.

* * *

Not once, not twice, but three times she had slipped within his grasp, but this time was the most destructive. It wasn't like the last time. This time didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. He saw the realization of something on her face, and his heart practically ripped in two as she started to push his hands away, begging for him to leave her.

Would he get her back?

More importantly, if he did, would she remember everything? Would she remember him? He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat cross legged on the hammock that still had her scent lingering on it.

"Newt, let's go," Minho said, followed by a small knock on the door. They had tried to be sympathetic and let him have a few hours alone, but daylight had faded now, and they needed to get to the bottom of the new girl.

He compartmentalized his emotions, shoving them as far down as possible to assure they wouldn't resurface, and then opened the door.

"You okay?" Minho cocked a brow.

"Yeah," Newt breathed back as they started downstairs. "Where's Tommy?" He asked as they reached the staircase.

"Right here," He heard from behind. He gave Thomas a small nod, and he replied with a weak smile as they passed the "living" room, taking a left and going underneath the stairs till they reached the last room. They passed a convulsing Alby, who was spitting up copious amounts of vile and spit, as black veins snaked over his shirtless body. The Changing seemed to be going well, so far, but they were still hearing screams every now and again.

The girl lay with her hair in front of her face, black like a raven, and her pale skin looked paler then it should on a human. Newt rested his hands on his hips as they all circled around the gurney.

"Alright Jeff, what's going on?" He asked, "Come on, what's a matter with her? Why won't she wake up?"

Jeff sighed as he stood up from a crouching position. "Hey man, I got my job the same way you did."

Newt's teeth grinded together at Jeff's impudent answer. Minho clutched the straps of his back as they all eyed the girl. Newt's eyes did a double take when he saw Thomas, whose tongue was pressed to the roof of his mouth while his thick, furry, brows, pulled together.

"Do you recognize her?"

They both lifted their heads to Newt.

"Well?" He asked again, firmly. He was in no mood to wait for answers. If Thomas was holding something back, a memory maybe, he better spit it out now.

"No."

"Really?" He folded his arms across his chest and nodded towards the girl, "Because she seemed to recognize you."

"What about the note?" Thomas asked quietly.

"Which one?" Minho snorted as his eyes dropped to the girl again.

Newt bit his lip. "We'll worry about the notes later."

"I think you should worry about it now," Thomas countered.

Both Minho and Newt exchanged a surprised expression, marveled at Thomas' counteraction.

"We've got enough to worry about," Newt dismissed, referring to the only two girls that had ever set foot in the glade.

"He's right," Jeff's feeble voice recited. "The Box isn't coming back up. How long do you think we can last?"

Newt licked his lips, preparing for the tension that was about to rise in the room. "No one said that. Let's not jump to any conclusions. Let's just…" His eyes dropped to the floor as Florence crossed his mind again.

It was only the clearing of Minho's throat that broke Newt from his stupor.

"—We'll just wait until she wakes up and see what she has to say." Newt concluded. "Somebody's gotta have some shuckin' answers, right?"

"Okay…" Newt heard from behind him, and when he turned around, in unison with Minho, he saw Thomas setting foot on a mission, a slight jog in his step.

"Where you goin'?" Newt asked.

"Back into the maze," He replied, his head peeking around the corner. Apparently he had anticipated that Newt wouldn't stop him, because he ran out the Homestead seconds later. Minho rolled his eyes at the Greenie's stupidity, but ran off to join him.

Newt sighed, arms still folded as he pulled up a chair beside the girl.

"Think we should move her back to the Med-Jack hut since Alby's here?" Jeff asked the new leader.

Newt shook his head, "No, he's fine. Bloody man couldn't hurt a fly…"

"Hmm," was all Jeff replied with.

Newt's lips curled over his teeth as he leaned closer to the girl, his chin resting on top of his folded hands. Maybe they were sisters, or cousins. Maybe they were best friends. Or maybe they had no relation at all.

"She say anythin' since she came in here?" Newt peered up at Jeff.

"She said his name, but besides that, nothin'." He shook his head.

Newt grumbled. He ran his thumbnail along his bottom lip as he sat, waiting for something to happen. It sucked; the waiting game. He was waiting for the girl to wake up, waiting for Alby to finish The Changing, waiting for anything remotely involving Florence, and waiting to get out of this hell hole.

He couldn't take the pressure, he hated being leader, but he was all the gladers had. He knew, for their benefit, he had to suck it up, compartmentalize his emotions, and deal with the tasks at hand, all while feeling like he was suffocating in a sea of stress.

He ruffled a hand through his tousled blonde hair, blowing out a long suffering breath.

"You alright, Newt?"

Newt's eyes lifted to Jeff. What kind of question was that? Of course he wasn't alright. He had lost Florence, again. His best friend was convulsing and throwing up just a few feet away from him, his new friend, who he was quite fond of, was set on entering the maze again, after just nearly dying, and he was stuck with being leader.

He stood from his chair, wincing at the horrible screech it made against the wooden floor, and pivoted, trudging off from Jeff's question.

* * *

I woke to unfamiliairity.

An unfamiliar room, an unfamiliar scent (Which burned my nostrils, might I add; probably some type of cleaner or disinfectant), an unfamiliar sight, and an unfamiliar sound. It took me a moment to realize the sound was the heart monitor beeping beside me. I cranked my neck to see it, the line moving lividly and lively across the screen. I groaned as I stretched out my limbs.

**My leg**. It didn't hurt. I gasped as I peeled the white blanket off my body.

How long had I been out?

All that was left on my leg was grotesque scars, pink and white; some even purple, trailing down my whole leg in a similar pattern to a lightning strike. A small chunk was missing from my upper thigh, and the indent on my skin made me cringe. It looked terrible. This was something that made a girl wear pants in forty degree weather. On the bright side, it was better than its previous infections, repulsive state. Even better, it didn't hurt. No bones were broken, and no fractures, which meant no limp. I wouldn't go as far to say it looked as good as new, but it looked as good as it possibly could after reconstructive surgery.

I flared my nostrils as I inhaled the scent that burned my nose again. The white room was eerie and would make a normal person go insane if you were to spend longer then a day in here. There were no windows in the room, just the hospital bed, the heart monitor, an IV –which I had ripped out— and a chair.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tested my renovated leg. It ached to move the stiff muscles, but for the most part, it felt perfect. I walked over to the door (also white) and turning the knob leisurely.

"Hello?" I asked, peering my head into a long, white—what a coincidence— corridor. I didn't recognize this building. I hadn't been in many other buildings besides HQ. I walked down the corridor, my eyes peering into the rooms I passed. I came up short with my findings. All empty. "Hello?" I called out again. I shivered at the eeriness of the situation. I felt like I was in a Stephen King movie, or The Walking Dead. I was walking down a hallway, in a hospital gown, barefoot, and wondering where everyone, or anyone, was.

When I got to the end of the hallway I used my weight to push open the door, and when I entered the next room, I froze.

This room was also white, a room I also didn't recognize, but there were people; lots of people. About twenty or so sitting around a giant round table, which, contrary to what you were thinking; was steel. I was the center of attention at this point. All eyes were on me.

"Uhh…" I tried to talk, but instead my jaw dropped as I hung off the side of the door.

"Florence," I turned to my addresser, sitting at the head of the table with his hands folded. "Welcome back."

"Thanks… I think…" I trailed off, my eyes averting from Janson as I scanned the faces of the small crowd. I saw Ava, the chancellor, Hannah, the nurse from yesterday, and a few other familiar colleagues. "How long was I out?"

"A day."

My face contorted. "What?"

"WICKED's resources are greater than you think," Janson replied with, in response to the superhuman-like healing of my leg. I made a pouting face. I opened my mouth to speak, but Janson stood, his hand cautioned in front of him to stop me as started towards me. "Now, while I'm sure you have a lot of questions, we have more important things to discuss right now. So please, if you don't mind—"

He gestured back towards the door while placing his palm on the middle of my back.

"What? No." I objected. "I hardly got any answers the first time; I'm not risking not getting any now."

"Florence. Please." He narrowed his eyes at me like a father did to a daughter, as if he was in the middle of a work meeting and I had just ran in asking for his help or something.

"Janson. Please." I replied in the same tone, shrugging off his hand.

He sighed, and held up a finger to the crowd. "One moment," A wave of whispers broke out as Janson moved me back to the door. "Florence, you have to be patient. You'll find out soon enough."

"You know, you keep saying that, but so far I haven't figured out anything," I exclaimed, while my blood boiled at just the sound of his voice. "I've been lying to the people I love, forcefully, might I add, for some reason you're allowing me to talk to Thomas, and you won't explain to me why you're saving me, so, to sum up, I haven't found out anything. And I'm pissed."

"You're just like him," He smirked.

"What?" I hissed, "Like who?"

"Do you want to go back?" He interrupted me.

My eyes widened, "Go back?"

"Go," He gestured to the door. "Take a left once you get to the end of the hallway, exit the building, it's the first building on the right."

"Why?"

"I'm not stopping you," He ignored me, "In fact, I condone it."

I made another confused face. "Why?" I repeated.

"No more questions. You stay or you go."

I hesitated, but if it meant seeing Newt again, I would go, without answers to my questions if that was the case. My clammy feet squeaked against the linoleum as I hesitated. I caught the attention of the other employees, and one even stood up in anticipation.

"Is she going?" The young man asked. It was the blonde one that had dragged me from The Box room to the operating room.

Am I going? They had anticipated this. That meant they wanted me to go. Which meant that I could be falling into a trap. Did that revolutionize my decision? No. My friends were in the glade. Those boys were the closest things I had to family since the Sun Flares, and I wasn't risking losing them.

"Yes," I replied for Janson.

"Take her," Janson dictated. "Send her up The Box."

The young man nodded and moved around the table to join us. Janson opened the door for us, and it squeaked as it shut close after we stepped through it.

"Don't I get to change or something?" I asked the guy.

"Nope," He retorted, popping the 'p'.

I groaned as we stopped out into the brisk, afternoon air. I'd change when I got to the glade. We made it to The Box room and the man started flicking switches and turning on lights. A loud buzzing noise sounded and a red light illuminated the small window where The Box was.

I started to gnaw nervously on my lip at the site of it.

"Whether you like it or not, you're going to have to lie again. Tell them they swiped your memory, you don't remember anything but bright lights and a beeping noise. You saw a few faces, doctors, and the next thing you know you were being sent up in the box." He swiped a workpad screen as he spoke, not even looking me in the eye. "Alright?"

"Alright," I repeated, knowing I had no choice anyway.

"Go," He nodded to the door. "It's ready."

Without saying anything, I moved towards the door. I took my time cranking the knob to the right and letting my bare feet land on the cold grated floor. I shivered from the icy temperature and looked back to the guy.

"Can I ask you something?" I questioned just as he was about to close the door.

"What?" He rolled his eyes, "I'm not authorized to tell you anything."

I raised a brow, "Not authorized or physically not allowed to?"

He remained expressionless, but his eyes dropped, giving me my answer. I sighed. "I just want to know one thing. The surgeon who fixed my leg… What's his name?"

"Alistair," He answered, immediately closing the door after.

The name echoed in my mind as I planted my butt on a wooden crate.

When the alarm started to blare, I prepared myself. In ten minutes, I would be in the glade. It felt like a lifetime ago since I had seen them all.

Not too long ago I was compulsorily dragged into The Box, and now I was voluntarily jumping in it, almost giddy I would see my family again.

Oh, how things had changed.

* * *

Another day had passed. Thomas Minho Zart Jeff and Winston had entered the maze and found something. A clue. It was some sort of metal cylindrical object with wires sticking out of it and the number seven on it. WCKD's logo was on the side of it, just like it was on everything.

After a long talk over everything that happened, they settled on waiting till tomorrow to set out and find another clue. Minho wanted to head to the blades with Thomas and check around there, since that was just by sector number 7.

They had another Gathering. Gally was fuming, as usual, but more so today considering Newt had promoted Thomas to runner. He was getting put in The Slammer for the night in punishment for running into the maze with Florence. With all that was happening, and being leader, Newt had no time to think about Florence. Part of him liked not dwelling on her absence, part of him felt guilty.

Thomas acted weird as they visited the girl last night. Newt asked him questions, wondering if he remembered her, told him to try to remember anything. Thomas came up short, for the most part. He said he felt some sort of connection to her, and just as he was about to explain, he jolted out of his chair like he had just had a vision.

Newt urged him to tell him what was wrong, but he acted insane.

_"Did you say something?" Thomas asked as he scratched his head. His bug-eyed expression pronounced his confusion._

_"What's wrong?" Newt asked eagerly, "Do ya remember somethin'?"_

_Thomas ignored Newt, and shuffled around the room like an insane person. "I swear I just heard someone say a name. A name. Teresa. Maybe it's just in my head… I don't know. Did she say something?"_

_Newt clung to that moment of hope. "Teresa? No, I didn't hear that. Must've sprung loose from your bloody memory blocks! That's her name, Tommy. Teresa. Has to be."_

_This time he full on jumped, his arms shaking like he had just been scared from one of Chuck's pranks._

NEWT!" The screaming of his name caused him to break from his recollection of yesterday's odd events and made Newt run out of Homestead. As he sprinted through the door, he noticed the lack of gladers in the Homestead.

"NEWT!" It was Veer. His hands were cupped around his mouth as he hollered at his friend.

"What the bloody hell is wrong?" He asked as he jogged closer to where he was standing, which was by the lookout tree.

But he saw the answer to his question, hurdling rocks at gladers. The girl was sitting on top of the lookout tree, her knees tucked under her chin, while she grabbed weapons to throw at the boys down below.

"Leave me alone!" She screamed as Gally tried to console her.

"Woah woah woah!" Newt yelled as he trotted towards the commotion.

A rock came sailing his way, and he ducked under it. "Bloody hell!" he screamed, joining Winston under his wooden board for a shield. "What's wrong with her?" he roared at Jeff.

"I don't know!" He shrugged over exuberantly, dodging a rock. "She just woke up, threw a punch at me when I tried to explain things, and ran off!"

"What's happening?" Thomas shouted as he approached with Minho.

She threw a stick, and Gally broke from his nice demeanor. "Hey!" He pointed a finger, "Throw one more thing and I—" He was cut off by almost getting a concussion from the boulder she threw.

Newt wondered where she had even obtained those things.

"I don't think she likes us very much…" He clarified, shielding behind the wooden plank Winston held.

"Hey!" Thomas yelled at her. "We just want to talk!"

"I'm warning you—" she screamed back, throwing more than one rock now. Some were pebbles, but some were close to small boulders.

"HEY! Woah!" Thomas dodged a rock. "It's Thomas!" He yelled, "Its Thomas."

Like a switch had been flicked, the avalanche of rubble stopped coming. Teresa's hair flailed in the wind as she peeked her head down to the gladers. Everyone watched in confusion as they dropped their shields and relaxed. Thomas gave the girl a small wave. "Alright, I'm gonna come up. Okay?"

Instead of replying she darted back, hiding like a mouse in a hole.

Thomas moved up the tree and everyone exchanged confused glances with each other.

"Another Newt and Florence," Someone murmured, although Newt didn't catch who.

"See?" Gally pointed to them up in the tree, now engrossed in conversation. "They probably used to be lovers or something. He must remember something. This is klunk. He's ruining everything. I say we banish the shank."

"Gally, you can't just bloody conclude to banishin' the shuck face. Deal with the circumstances."

He groaned, rolling his eyes as they turned back to the tree. "Alby would hear me out."

As much as he hated to admit it, that one stung.

Thomas stood up and leaned over the railing of the tree. "Hey, listen. You guys just give us a sec, okay?"

The crowd broke out into a sigh. "Alright," Newt ordered, "Come on." He waved everyone away. "Back to work," Gally whined like a two year old as everyone started to gather their things and continue their jobs.

"Are all girls like that?" Frypan commented as he picked up a bucket and stalked off.

Not all girls. Florence wasn't. Newt blew a raspberry and took the profession of cleaning up the rocks and sticks, as well as other debris she threw. He grabbed a bucket and started to congregate everything inside of it.

The job would only take a few minutes, but he never finished it. In fact, he never even picked up a single rock. Something had stopped him. Something had caught his attention, as well as the consideration of everyone in the glade.

It was the alarm.

* * *

**A/N: Just to clarify- I am NOT doing a love triangle. Sorry to be so vague with you guys, like Janson said, you'll find out soon enough ;) Also, to clarify, a reviewer thought that Florence was stung. She was not stung, just stabbed in the leg by a griever's leg! Not the stinger. **

**Thanks for the reviews from HarleyHolmes, Mina Luriya, Guest, AliceGirl303, Panda-Chan8, Guest 2, soccergurl248, steggy4ever, Artemis's Daughter 01, and InvisibleSoul4 (Touched that you postponed a Bob's Burgers episode to read).**

**Thanks for the reviews, sorry if this chapter sucks. I had a bit of writer's block on debating what to do...**

**R&amp;R, thanks. :)**


	22. Safe and Sound

The speed grew with each passing spending. My hair flailed in my face as I wrapped both arms around my knees and rocked myself back and forth. I felt like I was on an amusement park ride. I wasn't nervous, or scared, I had gone up (and down) this elevator multiple times.

The creeks and screeches of the hinges and pulleys sounded something similar to a ghost's howl. I shut my eyes and nervously gulped as it got faster and faster, making my stomach queasy. Just a few feet away from the top, it came to a sudden stop, making my body fly a few inches in the air and land on my hip.

"Ow,"I hissed, feeling the sharp pain as it the metal grated floor kiss my hip. There was an echoing jolt, just like last time, and then a beam of white opened above me. I shielded away from its blinding intensity as it grew and grew, until finally, it filled the whole ceiling.

My head spun as the world did a 360 around me. A wave of whispers manifested itself just as my eyes started to focus on my surroundings.

As expected, a large crowd of gladers dipped their head over the opening, peering down at me like I was some mouse in a pet shop.

"Is she alive?" Someone asked.

"Is she dead?"questioned another.

"Is her leg fixed?"

"Why is she wearing that?"

So many questions I wanted to answer, but couldn't. Instead, I scanned for faces.

Two bodies stepped through the ocean of gladers, confused and marveled. I saw Newt first. His face almost looked… angry? His brows drew together, and his fists were clenched. He was shaking. Thomas' eyes were wide and in shock. They hadn't expected my return, clearly.

The whispers quieted to a hush and I was left with 48 pairs of eyes gawking at me.

"Hi…?" I gave them a small wave with two fingers, and then used the back of the wall to straighten my posture.

I flinched when Newt hopped down, causing The Box to jerk downwards an inch.

I was still unsure of his expression, but when he held two hands out to me, I took them, using his weight to winch myself up. He leaned closer to me, and I felt drawn to him. He roughly wrapped his arms around me.

"Ooof!" I exhaled, due to his intensely tight grip.

Before I had the chance to wrap my arms around his neck, he released me.

I frowned at his hasty embrace, then waited for the bombardment of questions, wishing Newt's arms were still around me. He still looked aggravated. His eyes were narrowed in at me and he took a step back. "What the bloody hell were you thinkin'?"

I felt the gladers piercing stares on me, but tried my best to ignore them. "I… I wasn't." I stuttered.

"Clearly," Minho scoffed.

I rolled my eyes.

"How'd they fix your leg?" Veer inquired with a head nod, as he leaned on a railing.

Now, partially I was faking the head trauma, but part of it was just my radiant acting. "Ahh…" I pressed my hand to my forehead, shutting my eyes as my footing swayed. "It's all kind of confusing." I groaned, rubbing my head, "I just remember seeing people, faces. Doctors maybe?" I squinted, looking back up at Veer, "And there was a beeping noise. I can't really remember anything but bright lights and a beeping noise." I hissed, rubbing my head again. "They must have swiped my memory."

From my peripheral, I saw Thomas flinch, and my eyes darted to him. Behind him, hiding like a skittish cat, was Teresa. Conscious, alive, and just like I remembered her.

Her mouth was open, and her brows were furrowed as she stared at me.

"I know you."

Klunk.

Some gasped, some asked questions, some looked shocked, and some just widened their eyes. Newt, particularly, caught my eye. (What a surprise). With his arms folded across his chest, his brows rose. His eyes hastily darted to a flustered me, and nodded towards Teresa.

"You know her?"

My lip quivered, and I just went bug-eyed. "I… uh.. it's—"

"Do you?" He interrupted. He was treating me differently then he normally did. He was treading me like a leader would. Like Alby would. But I wasn't just some glader to him, was I? Had something changed from my departure? Had he re-thought our budding relationship?"

"I don't know how," Teresa cleared her throat, "But I do. It's all foggy—my mind. Your face… it's so familiar. Like Thomas'."

"You recognize her Florence?" I glader, Will I think his name was, asked.

My lips parted, and I replied with a subtle shake of the head as my eyes narrowed in at Teresa. Her eyes did a quick once-over of my body, and then she rubbed her arm before shielding herself behind Thomas again. We all swam in the tense silence, reconciling in its awkwardness. No one spoke. Everyone was either looking at me, or Teresa. Someone from the back of the mass coughed.

"Is there something you're not telling us, Florence?" Someone spat my name, and I looked up to the voice surprised. It was Gally. He rested comfortably alongside the railing, beside Veer, peering down at me making me feel smaller then I should. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he awaited an answer.

"She would never hide anythin', Gally." Although Newt seemed distant from me, he still stood up for me.

"Yeah," Minho added from my right, glaring at Gally. "She may be the weirdest shuck-face around here but she would never lie."

I dropped my head illicitly, but not before catching a glimpse of Thomas. He remained deadpan, making me ponder his thoughts. Was he angry with me for not telling them? Or was his mind completely somewhere else?

"Let the girl speak for herself," Gally angrily cut off.

I bit my lip. Just as I was about to open my mouth to speak, Newt spoke again.

"Shut your trap, Gally. Got the chops to be in the slammer with Thomas tonight?" When Gally huffed, Newt added "Didn't think so. Now everyone get back to work. I'm sure you'll all be filled in with glader gossip later. Dinner in half an hour."

A series of sighs and groans emitted from the mob, but they all obliged Newt's instructions. The only ones who stuck around were Newt, Veer, Minho, Jeff, Thomas, and Teresa.

"Newt," I turned to him, placing my cold hands on his warm wrists.

He shrugged me off, and used a crate to stand on so he could climb back up. I frowned, and helped myself up to return to the glade, leaving all awful memories of The Box behind.

The small group of gladers that were left formed a circle. All eyes locked on me like a missile, besides Newt, who scratched the back of his neck while looking at the plain, boring, overgrown grass beneath our feet.

"Why do you think they fixed you?" Thomas asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged.

"Must be important," Veer snorted.

"I guess so," I licked my lips; "Why else would they save me and return me?"

"We should use you as a shield or somethin'," Minho suggested with a smirk, "If they don't want you dead, you could protect us, and help us get outta here."

"No," Newt half-yelled.

Everyone's eyes moved to him, and he just ignored the stares as he shook his head. I half-expected him to follow-up his objection, but he remained silent.

"Florence, are you sure you don't remember anything?" Jeff inquired hopefully.

Thomas and I exchanged brief, still, eye contact, and I let out a long-suffering sigh before replying. "No. It's all hazy, my head hurts," I scratched the side of my head.

Jeff's lips tightened into a line. "I hate to bring this up, and I don't want to accuse you of lying or anything but—" He paused to sift through his khaki pockets. He pulled out a photo and unfolded it, turning it towards me, "I have to admit, these three people in the photo, despite their faces being scratched out, look exactly like you three." He eyes Thomas and Teresa, who shrugged.

"Jeff's right. They've sent that photo up twice, now. And the last note was regarding you, Florence." Veer avoided eye contact with me.

I shrugged, gnawing my lip again. "I don't know what to say to you guys, I can't remember anything."

Jeff huffed at my unknowing lie, while Minho and Veer nodded disheartenedly.

"Right, well, Thomas, go help Florence find some clothes. Florence, see Jeff once you're done, make sure you're all healthy and what not," He dictated without looking at me, "I'll check on Alby. Minho, I need to talk to you, come with me."

Minho widened his eyes and gave me a barely noticeable shrug before stalking off with Minho towards homestead.

"There are some fresh clothes that Chuck's dried near the creek in the Deadheads." Jeff enlightened us, "See you in a bit, Florence."

I nodded, giving him a gentle smile before breaking the circle with Thomas following behind me. I expected Teresa to follow us, but instead, she chased after Jeff, thankfully. Now I had a chance to talk to Thomas.

"You were lying, weren't you?" Thomas accused as soon as we were out of ear's reach of any glader.

"Shh…" I hushed him anyways.

"Florence," He sighed while shaking his head, "You have to tell them."

"I can't!" I whisper-shouted, "Don't you see Thomas?" I shook my head, "I can't. They won't let me. And they won't let you, either. There's some sort of mind compulsion we're under, they won't let us reveal anything."

"Well why were you allowed to tell me, vaguely, in the first place?" He cocked a brow as we entered the Deadheads, our feet scraping along the gravel path.

I sighed, "I don't know. None of it makes sense, even to me. I'm some type of variable to them. To you." I clarified.

"Variable?" He repeated.

I nodded, gazing into the dimly-lit forest as the sun started to set. "I'll try to tell you what they'll let me." I told him. "I got taken down in the box and immediately they snatched me from The Box and dragged me to this room, a surgical room. They laid me on the table and put me under anesthesia. I tried to ask questions, but the only answer I got was right before I went under, so I don't even know if I imagined it. They told me I was important, but not to them. To you."

He just stared blankly at me, pausing on the trail, before half yelling, "What?!" He grumbled, "That doesn't even make sense!"

"I don't know!" I told him as I threw my arms in the air. "I don't even know if I heard it right."

"How do I know you're not lying?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Thomas…" I frowned, giving him a look.

He crossed his arms over his chest to further prove his point.

I groaned. He was like a brother. He got on my nerves, but I loved him still. "Thomas, you're the only person I can talk to about this. I swear to you I'm not lying, and my word is all I can give you right now."

He sighed in defeat as we continued our trek.

"Not that I'm not happy you're here, I just don't understand why they sent you back."

I shrugged, not bothering to tell them that they gave me a choice. He would call me stupid for coming back.

"Maybe it's safer in here then it is out there." I shivered at the daunting truth of his words as our proximity to the clothesline neared. After grabbing a pair of black cargo pants and a royal blue, baggy, long sleeved shirt, Thomas and I trotted in silence towards the Med-Jack hut.

"You alright Tommy?" I inquired, using Newt's nickname for him. "You look like somethings on your mind."

He sucked in a breath and nodded. "There is, actually. It's about Teresa."

I made a face, "Teresa?"

"Yeah," He nodded, still avoiding contact with me. His voice got quieter as we approached a group of gladers. "Ever heard of telepathy between two people?"

I literally burst into laughter. I couldn't stop chortling, even after the group of gladers near us gave me odd stares.

"Stop laughing!" He smacked me, "I'm serious."

I sucked in a laugh and continued to stifle a chuckle with a smile.

"Florence," He paused our walk by grabbing my wrist and locking eyes with me; "I'm serious."

"Oh klunk," My face got more serious when I saw the severity of the look he gifted me, "You're serious…"

"I am." He replied sternly. "I don't know how, but Teresa and I can… talk." He licked his lips, "…in our heads…"

I went bug-eyed. "Does anyone else know?"

He shook his head, "Well, Teresa, obviously."

My eyes dropped to the floor. "I don't know what to say to that, Tom… I've never heard of that happening. Then again, they hid a lot of things from me during my last few months there. Maybe it's not unheard of."

"It's shucking weird…" He winced, "And it hurts my head."

"No kidding…" I scratched my face as I trailed off.

"I'll tell you more about it later," He concluded as we approached the hut.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing as Jeff repeatedly asked me if I remembered anything while checking my vitals.

"Jeff, I've told you like twelve times." I wearied, "If I remember anything you'll be the first to know."

He sulked off, "I'm sorry, it's just, I'm scared. We're all scared. No more supplies, no more Greenie's, how long before all our resources run out? How long before we're forced to either enter the maze and get eaten by grievers or sit here and die of starvation?"

I gave him a weak smile, feeling too guilty to reply.

"You're good to go," He dismissed while his back was faced to me.

I expressed a gentle smile, hopping off a wooden table and nodding to Thomas towards the door. He was unusually quiet as I guided him back to homestead.

"Did Newt say anything while I was away?" I asked him, biting my lip as I scanned his face.

He smirked, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," He chuckled while shaking his head. "No, he was pretty quiet. He stayed in his room unless he was needed."

"Did he say anything to you?" I raised my brows, trying to move in front of him.

"Not unless it regarded Alby or Teresa."

"Hmph," I sighed. "So tell me more about the telepathy thing," I urged.

"Not much to say," he shrugged. "Do I tell the others?"

"Hmm…" I pondered, "Maybe not just yet."

He nodded in agreement.

"Makes sense now why you guys seem so close." I smirked.

"What?" His left brow rose.

My smile widened, "It's been what, two days? One day of her being conscious? And you guys stand next to each other with such closeness that you seem like a married couple."

He rolled his eyes, but not before expressing a gentle smile I'm sure he didn't want me to catch.

"So have you told her about my knowledge?" I kicked a pile of dirt as we neared the wooden building.

He shook his head, "You're right, they wouldn't let me. Not even through my mind."

I frowned, "So you tried to?"

"Uhh…" He scratched his head, "He-he…"

"Ah, whatever," I sighed. "Let me know if she recalls anything about her past life."

"Will do," he responded in a whisper as we entered the homestead. We wandered to the back of the homestead, where Alby was being secluded.

Teresa, Newt, Veer and Clint were all circled around Alby's gurney. Alby convulsed and spat up saliva, all while trembling. Black veins snaked over his bare chest, and he clenched his fists so tight I thought he would draw blood.

Only Newt perked up at our presence, but he quickly looked away after identifying us.

"Has the grief serum worked?" I asked Clint, who was sitting in a chair, intensely watching a trembling Alby.

Clint gulped down a mouthful of saliva. "Still too early to tell. Gotta give it another day, at most."

I nodded at his explanation.

Alby let out a small shriek, causing us all to jump, and then his eyes fluttered as he started to calm again. At first glance, I thought his lips were shaking from the effects of the chaning, but then I heard a quiet mumble, and I cocked my head at it.

"Do you hear that—"

"Shh!" Newt silenced Jeff with a sole finger raise.

My brows pulled together and I moved around Thomas, placing myself behind Newt. His lips moved more, but it was still indecipherable. My head cocked even more at his incoherent babble-whispers. Everyone mirrored my expression, concentrating on hearing his words.

"GAAAH!" He grunted, spitting up more spit, while his eyes still remained closed. He clenched his fists again, so tightly I heard his knuckles crack, and then his scrunched eyes relaxed, and he looked like he was sleeping, despite his moving lips still.

Another indecipherable whisper caused me to move closer. His alluring undertone drew me to kneel beside him, my earlobe beside his head on the pillow. "_Florence…_" I heard him whisper, louder this time. I looked up to the others, curious if they heard it. By the perplexed stares, I assumed they had. "_Florence…" _He repeated once again, his teeth grinding together.

I shifted my weight, moving closer.

"GAH!" He screamed, jolting up in the bed. His hands grabbed the collar of my shirt (or whoevers shirt this was) and he yanked me closer to his face. My nose was touching his, my wide eyes fixed on his bloodshot, poisoned ones, while his spit went flying onto my face. "YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE."

"WOAH" I yelled, trying to remove his grip on me.

"YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE!" His hands moved to my throat, cutting off the inhalation of any oxygen, and I felt like my head was going to explode. I made gagging noises as I tried to claw and scratch at his rough hands.

Everyone scrambled to remove us from each other. Newt tugged at me from my left, trying to pry Alby's tight grip on my throat, while Clint was trying to secure Alby on the bed. Thomas pulled at the back of my shirt while Teresa batted at Alby's forearms, hoping the pain would make him release me.

"YOU DID THIS TO US. YOU AND THOMAS. THE GIRL. EVERYONE. I SAW YOU GUYS. I SEE YOU! YOUR FAULT. Your fault… Your fault…"

I wanted to cry at his words, reminding me of Ben's when he was too far gone.

Newt managed to uncurl the fingers around my neck, helping me breathe again, and Thomas pulled me back via my shirt the first chance he got.

Is tumbled back, falling straight into Newt's arms. He hooked both hands underneath me, stopping my inevitable fall. I gasped for air, trying to push myself up on Newt who was surprisingly calm again. My back was to his front and my jumpy movements didn't seem to startle him.

My hands moved to my throat, inhaling as much oxygen as I possibly could while everyone tried to hold Alby down to the bed. His torso was strapped to gurney but that didn't stop him from attempting to attack me. I struggled to stay upright, but Newt clasped his hands to my biceps, steadying me as I heaved breaths while facing Alby, who was unconscious once again, like it never happened.

His hands rubbed up and down on my arms, attempting to calm my anxious demeanor. "Okay, from now on, someone stay's here and watches him around the clock." Newt stabbed a furious finger at Alby.

Teresa brushed her hands through her hair, pulling at her scalp, and Thomas fisted his own shirt lightly while looking to Clint, who nodded in reply to Newt.

A creak beside us earned glances from all of us.

"Hey," Gally nodded at Thomas with a small eye roll. "Sundown, Greenie." He shifted his weight, "Time to go."

Newt and I terribly suppressed a harmonious groan, while Clint shook his head.

The last of the light filtered through the splinters of wood, and Gally guarded Thomas as they exited the homestead, starting for The Slammer.

Teresa looked lost, but she appeared to be in another world. Her eyes focused on a certain spot on the floor, and she nervously bit her lip. She was concentrating on… something.

Then I realized she was talking to Thomas.

"Teresa," She shook off her stupor as she rose her head to me "I'm not sure if anyone told you, I'm Florence, the first and only girl besides you."

She nodded, still seeming off in he own world.

"Wanna eat dinner together?"

She gave me a hesitant smile. "S-Sure."

* * *

Getting to re-know Teresa wasn't as painful as Thomas, but still stung a little bit. I really wanted to tell her that we used to be best friends, and be just as close as Thomas and I were now, but I know WICKED wouldn't allow it.

She picked at her soup with her spoon, her eyes moving to mine ever other second.

"So has Thomas filled you in on everything? Or everything he knows at least…" I scratched my head, shrugging as I waited for a response.

She nodded, "Yeah, most of its still confusing…" She sighed, while watching a glader pass us. We were the only two, besides Frypan, left in the kitchen.

"Like the telepathy?" I inquired with a smirk.

She dropped her spoon, causing a 'clang' noise. "You know about that?"

"Only recently," I looked back down to my bowl of soup. "And I gotta tell you, girl, it's pretty weird."

"That's an understatement," She scoffed with a hair flip.

I gave a weak smile as my head dropped.

"Think we'll get out of here?" She inquired hopefully.

I rubbed one of my eyes as I sighed. "I honestly don't know. If you asked me a few days ago, I would have said without a doubt, yes."

"What changed?" She asked with a head cock.

I blinked profusely at her, analyzing her face before answering. "Everything"

* * *

Teresa and I concluded our conversation, and we actually got along better than I thought we would with the Swipe. Our friendship didn't progress quite as fast as Thomas and I's, but we still had some sort of unspoken connection considering we were the only girls in the entire glade.

I saw Chuck standing on a pile of bricks, holding a torch as he leaned up to the barred window of the Slammer to chat with Thomas. I could just see the dimly lit shadow of his face, and Chuck gifted Thomas something, but it was too difficult to see what it was. I smiled at their friendship as I continued walking to the homestead. I walked up the stairs, heading straight for my room.

I was hesitant to knock at first, but out of respect, I did anyways. "Changing," A british voice emitted from the bedroom, making me relieved I had decided to knock. "Alright, come in," He said a few moments later.

I turned the doorknob and stepped into the room, quietly shutting it behind me as I tiptoed along the floor.

Newt didn't even acknowledge my entrance, instead he started folding his clothes and piling them up on the small chair in the corner of our room.

We were silent for an excruciatingly painful five minutes, until I cleared my throat. "Are— Are you mad at me or somethin'?" I asked him, giving him a weak pout as I sat on the hammock, swinging it back and forth. "Because if you are... you should talk to me or something."

He peered over his shoulder to look at me, and then he sighed, straightening his posture after folding the last sure. "No… No I'm not." He rubbed the back of his neck and turned towards me, "I'm not," he repeated, making me believe he was trying to convince himself that, rather than me.

"Why are you saying it like that?" My bottom lip quirked down. I hated the tension between us.

"Like what?"

"Like you're still trying to decide whether or not to be mad at me."

He exhaled, rubbing his neck again. It was an adorable nervous habit he did. "I'm not… mad. So much as confused…"

My eyes darted back and forth from him to the floor. "I… Uh. Yeah. Guess that's understandable."

"Why'd you push me away?" He asked, lifting his head while his hand still remained on his neck.

I broke our gaze and my eyes drifted out the small window in our room, seeing Chuck still engrossed in conversation with Thomas. "I'm not really sure."

"What kind of bloody answer is that?" He retorted.

"I know it doesn't make sense, Newt," I addressed him, even though he was the only person in the room with me, "And it was kind of a shot in the dark, but I had to risk it, despite if I got burned in the outcome."

"Slim the metaphor klunk," he miffed as he placed his hands on his hips.

I sighed. "Newt, I had no other choice. I either risked dying here, which was inevitable by the way, and you know that, or I jeopardized going back down in The Box to get saved, and it worked out fine, didn't it?"

"Yeah," His eyes widened in irritation, "But what if it didn't?"

"But it did, Newt." I stood up from the hammock and cupped two hands around his voice. "I'm back, so why does it matter?"

He shrugged off my hold on his face, and I bit my lip to hide the disappointment.

"I don't know if I can handle losing you a third time." He shut his eyes and gulped a mouthful of saliva.

His words pained me, and what pained me even more was having to forcibly lie, again. As soon as we were out of the maze, I might never see him again. "You won't lose me again, I'm sorry." I whispered gently, "Newt, it was a spontaneous decision, and I only made it to see you again. To see all of you. There would've been no hope if I had stayed here."

"I know," He gulped again, eyes still closed. When he opened them he frustratingly ran his hands through his hair. "When I ran into the maze, when you and Minho dragged me back, afterwards you made me promise something; to not leave you here stranded. You told me if I didn't survive through this shuck-of-a-mess then you didn't want to either. What makes you think I wouldn't want to survive without you?"

I could feel the water works coming, but I tried to suppress them. Instead, I cocked my head and bit my lip as the salty tears started to blur my vision.

"Just promise me the same thing. Because I can't handle you leaving again, I bloody can't. Promise me, Florence." His lips tightened together.

"I promise." I lied with a barely noticeable nod.

Instead of replying, he gave me a gentle nod, and moved towards me. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead, while placing his hand on the back of my neck to hold me tranquil, and sauntered over to the hammock.

* * *

**A/N: AH SO MANY REVIEWS! Keep em' coming! Thanks to HarleyHolmes, InvisibleSoul4, Rachel, rachelsailer, CarolineForbezs, Artemis's Daughter 01, Storylover00, Soccergurl248, hernandez424, ThomasEdisonWasADickhead, Rue, Guest, Softballqueen12, The Lady Geek and Alicegirl303.**

**Tell me your thoughts on the next chapter! Sorry this took so long. I've been sick and it's difficult to write when I'm sick... I also tried to make a youtube trailer for this but it turned out miserably. So if anyone gives it a shot lemme know ;) Again, sorry for the delay!**


	23. The Last Night

The next day was spent hovering over Alby's body. We opted in moving him back to the Med-Jack hut since everyone walked through the homestead during the day. Jeff came in to check every so often, making sure he wasn't clawing my throat.

Teresa stayed with me, and we cliqued just like the first time we met.

Thomas, newly promoted to runner, ran his first shift Minho as soon as he was released from the Slammer and the doors opened. I hadn't seen Newt all day; he was too busy attending to Leader stuff. Whatever that was…

Teresa told me more about her conversations with Thomas in their heads. She and Thomas were trying to reach each other in their minds as we spoke, but the farther he got; the quieter he was, like a cell phone connection or something.

"So… any admiration for the Greenie?" I wiggled my brows up and down.

She tried to hide her smirk. She raised one finger in the air, "Okay, first of all, what's a greenie? Everyone keeps saying that."

"It's a nickname for newbies," I chuckled as I slouched down in my chair.

"Secondly," She raised another finger, making a peace sign, "I've only known the kid for a few days."

"Or so you think," I countered with a cheeky smile.

She giggled, flipping her raven-like hair over her shoulder. "I could ask you the same about Newt."

"You could," I teased, ignoring her indirect question.

"So…?" She gesture me to talk.

I bit my lip. "Ahh… Newt's Newt."

She rolled her eyes, "Wow, that's a great explanation."

I breathed a laugh. "We haven't really defined any aspect of our relationship. We're not quite friends, but we're not together either. You know what I mean?"

She gave me a nod.

"There's no time to talk about it, either. The only time we have together is before we go to sleep, but by then I forget half the klunk I wanna say."

She made a face at the word 'klunk'. "Maybe when we got out of here," She suggested hopefully.

"Maybe…" I trailed off.

"Well I already know he likes you." She smirked triumphantly as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Oh do you?" I laughed.

"Yep."

"How so?"

"The longing stares, the way he looks at you like you're a delicate flower, the way he talks about you…"

"Keep going," I smiled, closing my eyes contently.

She laughed, "But seriously. That kid likes you know."

"Oh trust me," I told her, "I know."

"Oh?" She raised her brows.

"I overheard Newt and Minho talking before," I explained.

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Why should I?"

"Because!" She shrieked. "It could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship!"

Oh, if only she knew the whole story. "Oh and you're some type of relationship expert are you?"

She smiled boldly, "I like to think I was in my past life before our memories were erased."

_Ya right, _I thought to myself, while letting out a chuckle. Alby stirred in his bed, and his wrists tugged at the restraints. (Initiated after he tried to strangle me)

When he relaxed, my eyes drifted out the open door of the Med-Jack hut. The weather was pretty gloomy and muggy, but no rain. The light seemed to be dimming and the doors would close in a few hours. "Thomas and Minho will be back soon," I notified her.

"Hmm." She replied. "He's looking better," She nodded at Alby, pointing at the color that had regained in his face. No more black veins snaking his body, and he hadn't spat up once.

"Yeah, he should be waking up soon. For good." I elucidated.

We sat in silence for a while, resting in our own thoughts. Teresa, once again, was off in her own world. Probably speaking with Thomas in her mind, or maybe she was actually just thinking for herself.

There was a loud roar coming from the maze, but it wasn't the doors, or the grievers. The annoying sound of concrete sliding against concrete grumbled throughout the glade, and I made a face at Teresa.

"Normal?"

I shook my head, "Not particularly…" I sat up in my chair, leaning out the door to see if anyone was in the same curious state I was.

I shook my head, and sat down back in my seat. My arms folded across my chest, mimicking Teresa, and we relaxed in the silence. It wasn't awkward at all, it was relaxing. It was the first time that I had a chance to slow down. Everything was so fast paced here.

_"Slim it!"_

_"At least I did something!"_

Teresa and I both cranked our neck to the commotion outside. It was barely decipherable, but there was a group of gladers, including Gally, surrounding Thomas and Minho. Thomas, unexpectedly, appeared heated. He started pacing away, and Gally said something, causing Thomas to spin around and scream something in his face.

"Agh!" There was a loud cough from behind me, and Teresa and I both rotated towards it. Alby leaned over the bed and spat up a large mouthful of black liquid into a bucket.

"Alby!" I sucked in a breath. "Are you alright? How are you feeling?"

He coughed again, but sat himself on the edge of the gurney. He rubbed his sweaty forehead, smearing dirt on his face and sighed. "Oh God…"

I kneeled in front of Alby, "Whats wrong?" I turned to Teresa, "Can you pass me that cloth and ring it with cold water?"

She nodded, departing to complete my orders.

"It was terrible…" He coughed again, moving a fist to cover his mouth.

"Alby, tell me what else you saw." I urged him, shaking his arm. He shut his eyes, and his hands folded neatly in his laps once the coughs stopped. "Alby, can you hear me?"

His eyes snapped open, and he sniffled. His eyes pooled with liquid, and they squinted in attempt to not allow the overflow of tears.

"Alby…" I rubbed his arm soothingly. I stood to sit beside him on the gurney.

He shook his head (At what? I don't know) and let a tear escape from one of his eyes. Teresa passed me the cold cloth, and I thanked her. "Can you go fetch the boys?"

She nodded at my request and sprinted out of the hut.

I pressed the cold cloth to his forehead, repeatedly calling his name, but no reply. Moments later, Thomas, Gally, Minho, Frypan, and Newt filed into the hut, along with Teresa.

"Alby…" Newt whispered gravely, like he had just seen a ghost. He sat on the other side of him. And leaned forward to appear in his point of vision. "You alright?"

He sniffled again.

"What's wrong with him?" Gally shot at me.

"Don't know," I shook my head.

A sweaty, dirty, smelly, Thomas moved forward and kneeled in front of Alby. "Alby… Hey Alby. We— We m-might've just found a way out of the maze. We could be getting out of here."

My eyes widened, but I tried to keep my mouth shut and stop the questions I wanted to ask from surfacing.

"We can't…" Alby's voice cracked. "We can't leave." He sniffed again, "They won't let us."

"What're you talking about?" Alby didn't even turn to my voice. No one did. Everyone was fixed on Alby.

"I remember." He grimly vocalized.

Thomas licked his lips. "What do you remember?"

Everyone gasped when Alby turned his head to Thomas and replied with "You."

Thomas shifted back a few feet, shuffling in the dirt floor. Everyone was a little bit astounded, even me. Gally's brows were more brooding than normal, Teresa and Fry had wide eyes, and Minho remained practically expressionless, but Newt still faced Alby.

"You were always there favorite, Thomas."

Thomas' head shot up to mine, his eyes bulging. I had told Thomas that before…

My lips parted, while my eyes darted blatantly darted back and forth. Even I, for once, was confused. I chewed at the dead skin on my lip and exchanged a glance with Teresa behind me.

"Why did you come here?" Silence muted upon everyone when Alby rotated in his seat and turned towards me.

I deadpanned.

"You guys hear that?" Fry straightened and turned towards the door. Newt and I rose from the bed, and we all exited the hut, following a series of screams and shouts we had heard.

Gladers ran around with torches, bee-lining around the place.

"Hey Winston," Thomas stopped Winston's sprinting quest, "What's going on?"

"It's the doors!" He yelled, his torch flying in the air with his wild arm movements, "They aren't closing…"

Simultaneously, we all froze. We all mirrored each other with our mouths agape and our eyes wide like we had just seen a ghost. I was speechless. This hadn't been planned for. When Thomas looked at me, he realized I was just as lost as he was.

I found myself being drawn towards the glade, and the others moved with me. A few gladers brought torches and distributed them between us. I grabbed one from Zart, and held it towards the maze. Dusk was just coming to the end, and the glade was encompassing in darkness.

I shivered.

I rotated to Newt, who looked just as broken as the rest of us. His lips parted and he gave me a poignant expression.

We all waited, hoping that maybe this was a mistake. Maybe they were late closing or something. There was a first for everything, right?

There was a thunderous clang, and we all shielded from it, jumping at the noise. A cluster of birds cawed as they moved from the trees, flying off into the sky and cawing like crazy. The bone chilling reality of our fate fully set in when the other three doors of the maze opened. All four doors were open.

We. Were. Dead.

"Chuck," Thomas took charge, pointing a finger in Chuck's chest. "I want you to go to the council, okay? Start barricading the doors."

He nodded exasperatedly and darted off in the other direction.

"Winston, you go with him," Newt dictated.

"Got it." He ran off.

"Marcus!" Gally called, "Get the others, we're going to go to the forest and hide." He yelled. "Now!"

"Minho, I want you to grab every weapon you can find."

Minho received his order with gratitude and nodded. "Let's go," He nodded to Veer.

The barking of orders from Newt, Gally, and Thomas continued for the next thirty seconds. Newt brought me along to go hoard the stash of weapons in the bloodhouse. There were a few knives and wooden spears in there.

We sprinted off to the corner of the glade, and I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with guilt, once again. This had to be some terrible dream, right? I pinched myself, and winced when I realized this was all real. All very real. It seemed so sudden.

"EVERBODY HIDE!" Thomas screamed loud enough for the whole glade to hear.

"Keep running," Newt ordered ahead of me, looking back to make sure I kept up pace.

I took a quick glance over my shoulder, and immediately regretted it. A griever was starting to tear through the West Doors, destroying everything in its path.

Just as I entered the Bloodhouse, I heard a daunting roar.

Newt shut the door.

I heaved breaths as I leaned on my knees. No more inhaler… They were in my other pants, which were at WICKED's headquarters.

"Breathe, okay? Just breathe." He told me while rummaging through drawers. He unfastened all the looks and swung open all the drawers. He piled them all together in the middle of the room, all while checking every so often that I was still alive.

"Newt…" I panted, "I have to tell you something."

He tossed a knife to the pile. "Can't it wait, love?"

I winced at his name for me, making me feel more culpable. "Newt... I have to…." I huffed. "I have to, but I can't." I felt the migraine form, and I clutched my head between my knees.

Just as he was about to ask if I was alright, someone burst through the door.

Luckily, not something.

Gladers filed in, one by one, all grabbing weapons. There wasn't much to grab, so hopefully Minho had a better stash in the Runner's hut. Once everyone grabbed a weapon and exited the building, Newt grabbed my wrists. "Stay close to me," He tossed me a wooden spear, "Use this if you need to. Whatever you do, don't bloody die."

I rolled my eyes as he pulled my heaving body back into the dangerous commotion. "I'll try not to…"

"Oh my God…" I lifted a hand to my mouth and started to whimper at what I saw.

Death, blood, and fire. It looked like hell. Flaming grievers scattered along the walls like crabs, some were tossing gladers away. Some were being _eaten. _

So many cries, I wanted to shield my ears. But I couldn't, I had no free hands.

The angry growl of the grievers filled my ears. How many were in here. Five? Ten? Looked more like ten.

"Where are we going?!" I screamed at Newt over the roaring wind and the bloodcurdling screams. He didn't respond, instead he just gripped my wrists tighter as he practically dragged me along. Three other gladers joined us, one of them being Clint, and we all sprinted in a cluster to God knows where.

Half of a body flew over my head, and I screamed as the blood fell on us like rain. I saw another group of people just ahead of us. I could make out Thomas' face, Teresa's, Chuck's, Veer's, Minho's, but the rest were blind to me.

The homestead was far off to the left, so we could join groups together and take shelter in the homestead.

A flame-engulfed Griever was chasing rapidly after their group, and I found my feet moving faster against the glade floor to save them.

The griever almost collided into another one, who beelined across his path and took the end of Thomas' group.

Veer.

The griever had snatched up Veer. I felt the tears start to form and I shrieked again when I saw the griever chomp down on his body.

"VEER!" I shrieked, pausing briefly, but Clint shoved me forward.

"KEEP MOVING," He screamed.

A few tears fell, mostly from the wind, and we moved faster to ensure no others would be taken.

"Agh!" Someone fell in their group, and I couldn't make out who until I heard Frypan yell "ALBY!" Thomas darted back to save him and they both tried to pry Alby off the floor and tow him towards homestead.

Newt, running faster and harder then I had ever seen, intercepted the griever and threw his spear straight into its gooey, mushy flesh just as it was about to take them all out. It let out a sickly scream. I launched mine quickly after, and it landed in its eye. There was no time to revel in my good aim.

Newt, being weaponless now, pulled the machete from his satchel as he continued to sprint towards Thomas. "COME ON!" He screamed at them, his voice cracking. "KEEP MOVING."

He glanced back to see that I was at the end of the adjoining groups, and whizzed back for me. He virtually pushed me inside the building, and he shut it close behind us.

A group of gladers started barricading the door as I fell against his chest.

There was a loud growl from a griever outside, than all was silent except the distant cries and screeches.

"Everyone in the middle," I waved to the center of the Gathering hall in the homestead, "Come on,"

Surprisingly, they all listened to me. We were all back to back, forming three circles inside of each other as we faced the walls. Newt and Thomas were beside me. I was facing the literal front door of the homestead, and I winced when a griever poked it, like it was knocking to tease us.

The room was so still, and so quiet that I had almost forgot to breathe. I could hear my heart pound in my ears, and although it might've not been the best time, I found my hand moving towards Newt. In fear, I clasped our hands together as I gulped a mouthful of saliva.

He gave me a tight squeeze. Seconds later, we all jumped at the startling growl of a griever just outside the building.

The last glader put out his torch, and dropped the wooden flashlight to the floor.

The clicking of the grievers spikes got louder, more sickly.

The red and white lights illuminating from the griever shined through one of the small holes in the wooden building, blinding me. I shut my eyes as it passed.

Maybe it was like a T-Rex. Maybe if we were still, and silent, it would pass and think nothing of us.

Of course, I was wrong.

A knife-like appendage protruded through the ceiling of the homestead and we all shrieked, sheltering away from it. Newt tightly wrapped an arm around me as everyone moved to the outer corners of the homestead, concluding that the middle wasn't safe anymore.

"WOAH!" Everyone screamed as we heard –and felt— a griever jump on top of the building.

It growled, stepping across the weakly made structure.

When we saw the shadow of the griever move towards the middle of the roof again, everyone slowly crawled forward, weapons in hand, ready to kill.

Teresa looped her arm into mine, and I gave her a weak smile as I looked at her.

Dust fell from the roof as it continued to crawl across the roof, and some gladers moved away from it like it was toxic. Everyone moved around to the front of the building as we watched the griever sluggishly move to the back.

"AH!" We all yelped as its tail, or whatever it was, shot through the ceiling. It was smarter than we thought it was. The claw gripped the pole that was in the middle of the room, which held the whole building together, and ripped it out like a claw machine would a toy.

The roof emitted an outlying crack, followed by the collapse of the building.

We all cried as the wood fell, hitting us in the heads, the side structure still remained, but the griever now had a clear view of us and he was aiming to kill. I coughed as I moved a pile of wood away from Teresa and I scanned for Newt. He was a few feet away from me, machete in hand as his eyes looked up to the orange, smokey, sky.

"AH!" A glader screamed across the room. "Help!" I was too far, and there was too much rubble for me to reach. Just as Thomas and Chuck noticed him, he was being snatched away and slingshotted across the glade.

Newt lunged forward and pulled Thomas and Chuck back so they weren't next.

They scuttled on their butt's along the dirty floor.

They struggled to stand, but somehow did it using each other's help.

A tail missed me by inches, and I let out a scream as it broke through the wall, scratched the surface of my nose and grabbed Chuck.

"CHUCK!" Fry yelled.

"NO!" I shrieked. Not Chuck too. Anyone but Chuck. I scrambled over the logs and rubble to get to him.

"GRAB HIM!" Someone yelled.

Just as he was about to be catapulted, Thomas grabbed his arm. Other gladers started grabbing his limbs, and I joined in an attempt to hold his torso.

We all groaned and grunted as the griever put up his best fight.

"Chuck don't let go!" Thomas shouted.

"No shit!" He screamed back, earning no chuckles. Minho fell on top of me as he started to raise in the air because of the Griever's pull. I gripped Chuck's shirt, and tugged at it while one arm was around his waist, pulling him to the floor.

Just as the stinger revealed itself, Alby lunged forward, screaming like a warrior as he slammed down on the griever's tail with a machete.

It's stinger fell, which must have hurt because it let out a overwhelming shriek.

Alby continued to saw at the medal, and sparks flew everywhere. Finally, we won.

I had never been so blissful to have Chuck fall on top of me.

Thomas tossed Chuck off of me. "Chuck you okay?" He searched for a sting.

"Yeah I'm fine," he coughed, and I sighed as I stood up. Chuck picked up the stinger, for some unknown reason, and turned to Alby, who was panting as he held the machete in his hands. "Thanks Alby."

Just as he opened his mouth, a claw came crashing down from the broken ceiling. Thomas went sprinting towards Alby, arriving seconds too late as the mechanical arm grabbed Alby like a toy.

Alby held onto a piece of the ceiling with one hand while gripping Thomas' sweaty hand with the other. Thomas' teeth gritted together as the slip loosened, and Alby was seconds from death. "Thomas… get them out." He told Thomas his final wish before he slipped from his grip and faced death, disappearing from the room.

"NOOOOO!" Thomas screamed in frustration, jumping up against the wooden walls to go after him. His eyes scanned the room, and then he darted towards the door.

Everyone called after him as he moved the make-shift barricade and staggered out the door. Newt pushed past everyone as he attempted to go after his best friend, but everyone knew he was long gone.

"Newt no!" I protested, pushing myself over a pile of rubble.

We all slowed to a stop as we exited the building. The cold night air hit me like a brick in the face, and we all seized to observe what we once called our home.

The pandemonium was still occurring, but the last of the grievers exited the glade. Screams filled the air, along with smoke and fire. Buildings were destroyed, blood stained the once green grass, and cries resonated off the walls.

I was too stunned to cry... I was too astonished to do anything.

A shadow emerged from a pile of smoke to the right of us, and I was the first to notice.

"Thomas," I called out, pointing to Gally who was stomping towards us. "Gally…" I cautiously stepped between the two, my hands hazardously moving forward. He shoved me to the ground, and I groaned as I smacked the floor, feeling blood trickle from my nose.

"HEY!" Someone yelled, Newt I think. Seconds later, I heard a hard smack, and Thomas yelped. Chuck and Teresa helped me stand, and I had just witnessed the aftermath of Gally punching Thomas.

Everyone yelled protests as they tried to hold Gally back. "This was all you Thomas!" He accused, "LOOK AROUND." He yelled louder, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT."

"It's not Thomas' fault!" I screamed at him as I straightened out my bloody, dirty clothes.

"Shut your trap, Florence! You're hiding something. I know you are."

I opened my mouth to protest, but opted on shutting it. He was right. I guess I deserved the nose blood that I was having right now. I wiped my nose with my sleeve as the blood continued to trickle from it like snot.

"YOU'RE BOTH ONE OF THEM. THEY SENT YOU HERE TO DESTROY EVERYTHING!" He barked at us as Fry and Winston pulled him back.

Newt tended to Thomas while Minho folded his arms across his chest, giving up on preventing the fights.

"Look around Thomas!" He kept repeating himself via shouts, "Look around! This is your fault."

"GALLY!" Newt cut off, "say one more thing and I bloody swear to God I'll—"

"Tom…?" I turned to Teresa, who moved from my side to Thomas'. Thomas held the stinger of the griever that attacked Chuck and killed Alby in his hand.

"Thomas… no," I breathed with a slow headshake. My lip quivered and I bit it. His eyes scanned over the gladers, and he locked eyes with me. He raised the stinger in the air, and I gasped as it came crashing down. "THOMAS!" I shrieked, but it was too late.

His body crashed to the floor and he convulsed and shook as spit flew from his mouth. Everyone left Gally to tend to Thomas who took heaving breath as he gripped clumps of grass.

"No! You shucking Slinthead!" I lightly whacked his arm as I leaned over his body.

He coughed, and then turned to roll over on me. His pupils dilated as his eyes fixed on mine. He coughed once more, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews from Bad Dancer, steggy4ever, and idk. Someone brough to my attention (Not negatively, so thanks for that!) that this story is dragging a bit and kind of getting boring, but I promise you the next few chapters will be more interesting. **

**In two or three chapters, everything will make sense. I promise. Eeek! You'll find out why Florence was sent into the maze with her memories!**

**R&amp;R and enjoy :)**


	24. Change

**I listened to Hans Zimmer - Time while writing the last half of this. I suggest you do too.**

* * *

"This is the closest I've come so far," Newt started, "to hangin' it all up. Shuck it all and kiss a griever goodnight. Supplies cut, doors aren't closing, Grievers are killing, my best friends dead, Tommy's in the bloody changing… The buggin' Creators either want us dead or they're giving us a spur. This or that, we gotta work or asses off till we're dead or not dead."

I made a face at him. "What kind of pep talk was that?"

"Just expressing the last string of hope I got, love."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Don't say that, Newtie." I licked my lips, looking from Thomas, who lay on the gurney practically lifeless, to Newt. "We're alive, aren't we?"

"Yeah," He jeered with a subtle eye roll, "All **twenty **of us."

I frowned, my eyes moving back to Thomas. I ran a hand through his dark, dirty hair, like a mother would to a sick son.

"How's he doing?" I glanced up to the voice, Teresa, and shrugged. "Better, I guess. It's only been like fifteen hours. But he's making faster progress then Alby was."

Newt flinched in my peripheral at the name of his dead best friend.

"Well we got the serum into him pretty quickly," She recalled to us.

After Thomas stupidly injected himself, Chuck ran to get the grief serum and we injected it before it got worse. The Glade had completely split into two, unfortunately. There were those on Thomas' side, and those on Gally's. The majority were on Gally's. He told everyone that Teresa was crazy and insane, and that she just wanted to lead us all to death.

Gally had pretty much taken over the strength side of the glade, which meant he had more power than anyone else. Gally was going to banish Thomas and Teresa as soon as Thomas was awake. There was no fighting against them, but Newt countered that Thomas should at least wake up in order to have a fighting chance.

"You alright Teresa?" I asked, looking up to her from my seat as I crossed a leg over my knee. "You look troubled."

She gave a blasé laugh. "Wouldn't you be if you arrived in a maze full of boys where half of them hate you? Blaming you for something you don't even know about? All while remembering nothing and not even twenty four hours after waking up slug-spiders come in and try to kill everyone?"

"Touché," I agreed, giving her a glum smile as my head dropped back down to Thomas. His eyes moved rapidly around underneath his lids, and he made murmurs every so often that were scrawled.

"Hey!" I heard an angry yell from behind me, and I looked out the window of the half-charred Med-Jack hut.

I groaned when I saw Gally, with Marcus and another builder, stalking towards us.

"What, Gally?" I hissed, "We're not doing anything wrong, leave us alone."

Newt touched my forearm, signaling me to stop aggravating the overpowering new leader of the glade.

I frowned.

"Put him in the Slammer. I want him in the Slammer." He stabbed a finger at Thomas.

"No!" I deviated, "He's fine, he's not going to hurt anyone."

"Then what harm is putting him in the Slammer?" He shrugged with a raise brow.

"Gally—"

"Florence." He cut off firmly. "I want him in the Slammer. When he wakes up in a few hours, you can do whatever the shuck you want with him until sundown."

Sundown was the banishment.

"But at sundown I'm taking you three and we're banishing you to the maze."

"Three…?" Newt stood up from his chair.

"Three." He nodded. "Thomas, Teresa, and Florence." He pointed to all three of us. "I suggest you take my side, otherwise you get banished with those shanks, Newt."

Newt took a step closer to Gally, and Gally's allies moved to the side of Gally in a protective stance, making Newt back off.

"Bloody hell, Gally. Have you lost your mind?" He shook his head, rewarding Gally with a discerning look.

"Have you, Newt?" He narrowed his eyes at him. "You've been Leader for what, a few days? The whole shuckin' glade has burned to flames, half of us are dead, and I'm responsible for picking up _your _pieces. She's a part of this too. I've seen her before… her face. When I went through the changing, I saw faces… "

As much as I wanted to knock Gally out, I knew I had no chance in winning if I stood up to him. Instead, I stepped between the two boys when they started lunging for each other. "Woah!" I squealed, "Calm down, guys." I turned to Gally, "Gally, I'll throw Thomas in the Slammer as long as you give us the key," I held out my hand, "Newt," I turned to him, pointing to the chair with my other hand, "Sit down."

He grumbled, but obeyed.

Gally smirked. "How about I cut you guys some slack, considering you're dead at sundown, and let Thomas go in the old Slammer in the Deadheads."

"The wooden ones at the back of the forest?" Newt asked giving him an odd look, "We haven't used those in years."

"Well that way you can see when he wakes up." He looked to me, "Make sure you tell me when he wakes, because I want you three tied up before the grievers come back. Got it?"

I nodded, deadpanning at him to show un-appreciation of the situation.

"Now scram," He waved us away and trudged off with his posy towards the Builder's corner.

Minho and Chuck joined us minutes later, and Newt and Minho volunteered for throwing him in the wooden Slammer. This Slammer was less horrid then the other one. It was a wooden structure and sticks were tied together with vines to create a make-shift jail cell. It rested against the maze wall at the back of the dead heads, with three wooden cell-pieces around it, forming a lean-to jail.

When they tossed him in there –gently of course— we all sit criss-crossed in a half-circle, facing the cell. No one spoke for awhile, until Minho perked up, saying that they had talked to a few others about a plan.

"So we escape the maze by taking that… thing, whatever it is. The metal cylinder with wires with the letters WICKED on it, and we run through the north doors, pass the blades, and take a left, instead of going straight through the blades." It was hard to keep up with Minho's words, considering I still didn't quite understand half of what he was speaking about. All I knew is that the griever Thomas crushed released some sort of key, and when they ran yesterday they had opened a new door with the key and found some sort of griever hole, which could possibly be a way out.

"And that's how we got out." He finished.

"Or so you think…" I countered, not knowing the true escape route even though I worked for WICKED.

"Well it's the best shuckin' chance we got," He offered. "So I was talking to Fry and Jeff, who were talking to a few others, even some on Gally's side, and we decided that we have to make a move. We have to take a chance and get out here, make a break for it."

"Is that really a good idea?" Teresa asked.

"It's the only idea we have. I mean, unlike what Gally thinks, we can't stay here forever," He told her. It was the first time I had seen Minho and Teresa talking. "I say we make a break for the maze at sundown and try going through the griever hole."

"What if there's no escape?" Chuck panicked, "What if we go through the hole and we all die? What if it's a trap?"

"Minho's right," I consoled Chuck with an arm touch, "We can't just wait here another night and lose more to the grievers. The Creator's are pushing us to move faster. They must want us out of here as fast as we do."

They all nodded.

"So at sundown, when they tie the three of you up, we team up and free you Slintheads. We'll talk to the shuck-faces on Gally's side that wants to leave and get them to help us. If we can catch them at the right time, we can escape with weapons and possibly more people then we buggin' got now." Newt analyzed all four of our faces. "Sound like a plan?"

We all nodded. "Good. At sundown, we strike. Chuck, go tell the others. Get as many people as we can in on this."

"Got it," he breathed as he stood up from the floor, crunching dead leaves as he sprinted off back towards the glade.

"Come back when you're done!" I shouted at him with my hand cupped around my mouth. I bit my lip, turning back to the only other sane people in this maze.

"Think we can pull it off?" I doubted.

"We can try." Newt dismissed.

* * *

I watched Newt lock and unlock his fingers together, nervously fiddling with them while his mind was somewhere else. Teresa and Minho had left, joining Chuck in gathering others to initiate the escape later.

I didn't have to ask him to know he was thinking about Alby.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, placing my hand on top of his.

"S'alright." He replied brokenly.

I scooted my butt along the forest floor and moved to the side of Newt. I pressed our bodies closer together and leaned my head on his shoulder. He sucked in a large breath, and then tilted his head to rest atop of mine.

My fingers lightly traced circles on his now still hands, and we sat in silence. I couldn't say anything; there was no way I could make any of this better. We lost Alby, and Veer, and so many more. It killed me to think about them.

We hardly had the time to mourn them, though. It all came crashing down on us at once, and I felt more vulnerable than ever. If we got out of here, where would we go next? What was the second trial? Would they go out into the real world? The real, sun-scorched earth? I had no idea what the second trial was, and I was starting to think they kept it from us for a reason.

I shivered.

My reveal of my knowledge would come soon, I could feel it. The guilt was eating me alive, and part of me wished I'd die with that rather than letting them find out.

The others came back moments later, and out of respect, I kept the public display of affection on a down low.

Teresa, longing for Thomas' touch, went inside the Slammer with him when he started to convulse again. She really cared for him, and it seemed to be in more of a romantic way then it was before the maze and the loss of memories.

He started to toss and turn so Teresa pulled Thomas' head into her lap. Instantly, he relaxed, and we knew then that he would wake soon. It was only a matter of time.

We waited another hour, none of us saying much. When his body jolted, like he was being tazered, we knew he would be awake soon.

"Thomas," Teresa called to him, "Thomas, can you hear me?" His eyes burst open, then shut again. We all scooted forward, trying to get a better look. Newt rested his forearm above his head on one of the branches of the cell, and Minho kneeled beside him. "Thomas," She said again.

With a small gasp, his eyes flashed open, for good this time. His eyes rapidly whizzed around, observing his environment, and then his eyes locked with Teresa, who hovered over him.

"Hey," He voice was quiet and bleak. "Are you okay?"

His head bobbed up and down as he readjusted his head in Teresa's lap.

"Good, you're awake. Now: What the hell were you thinking?" I cut to the chase with a glowering stare. He inhaled deeply when he saw me, and then immediately sat up. His eyes scrutinized all of us, then he looked back to Teresa. "What happened?"

"What happened is you decided to be the heroic Slinthead you are and you stung yourself with a Griever stinger." I elaborated.

"Gally's taking control, now." Newt added. "He said we had a choice: either join him, or get banished at sun down with you lot."

Thomas released a shaky breath, and looked away from us as he scratched his nose with his shaky hand. He groaned, and then sat up in a straighter posture. "Everybody's agreed to that?" He asked, peering back up at us.

"Gally has everyone convinced that we're the reason that all this has happened." Teresa's eyes dropped from Thomas and sank to the floor as she bit her lip.

"Well he's been right so far…" He trailed off, rubbing the caps of his knees nervously with the palms of his hands.

My eyes sank to the floor at his words, and I felt Newt watch me in my peripheral.

Minho cocked his head, and in a gruff voice asked, "What are you talking about?"

"This place," He paused, licking his lips, "It's not what we thought it was…" His eyes flashed to mine, and they remained locked on me until he finished his explanation. "It's not a prison. It's a test." His eyes went dim and bleak as he looked at me, and I briefly glanced over at the others to view their marveled expressions.

Everyone looked distant, vacant from the conversation as they tried to picture Thomas' words. Except me. All I could think about was how much everyone would hate me, and how confused and angry Thomas must have been about seeing what I told him in action via memories and dreams.

"Keep talking…" Newt pushed after a brief moment of silence.

"Well, when I went through the Changing, I saw flashes of images—hundreds of them—like a slide show in fast forward. A lot came back to me, but only some of its clear enough to talk about. Other stuff has faded or is fading, but I remember enough. It all started when we were kids. They would give us these challenges… and they were experimenting on us."

Chuck let out a shaky exhale.

"I saw glimpses of people working, trying to figure something out, but I don't know what. Something terrible has happened, and for some reason they need us. That's why they created the maze. But the maze was never meant to be solved. It's all a trial."

I winced at the word, earning a glance from Minho.

"They want the winners, or survivors, the strongest— to do something important."

"Whad'ya mean?" Newt's face scrunched up in confusion.

Thomas shook his head as he tried to recollect his thoughts. "Let me start over…" He took a deep breath, "So we were taken when we were pretty young. The Creators stole us, and they felt justified in doing it. They figured out we had above average intelligence and sent us to special schools until they had enough money to finance the maze."

"What about families? Friends? Memories? Do you remember any of that?" Chuck asked.

Thomas shook his head, "Nada. But I do remember something. All our names are just stupid nicknames – like Alby, for Albert Einstien, or Newt for Isaac Newton, and me— Thomas, for Thomas Edison. Teresa, you're named after Mother Teresa, and Florence…" He turned to me, and I gulped. "You're named after Florence Nightingale."

"No…" I whispered, my eyes descending to the floor as thoughts raced through my mind. "No no no…" I felt everyone's eyes on me, but I didn't care. I couldn't be named after someone. That was my real name; I was born with that name. I remember my real name, and it was Florence Gale Nyx. It took me a second to realize Nyx, my last name, was the name of the greek goddess of night… My "name" was pretty damn close… This didn't make sense.

"So… our names aren't even are real names?" Chuck tried to clarify.

Thomas shook his head. "As far as I know, we'll never even know what our real names are."

"What are you saying? That we're freaking orphans raised by scientists?" Minho's eyes scrunched together.

"Yes," Thomas elucidated depressingly. "They're studying every move we make— analyzing us. That's what the beetle blades are for."

I didn't have to look up to know Thomas was ogling at me.

"So they swiped our memories of everything and everyone, every memory we ever had and sent us up here to see how we would react."

"But why?" Newt's brows knit closely together as he readjusted himself on the dirty floor, "What's the bloody point?"

Thomas held up a finger, "I'm getting there. Like I said, they wanted to test us— see how we react. They sent up Variables, like you, Florence."

Everyone's eyes moved to me. Thomas knew the deeper meaning of his words, while everyone assumed it was just because I was a girl.

"They planned this all along," He spoke directly to me, "The grievers, the beetle blades, the maze, the blades, the Box, it's all just elements of a stupid test. The Creators want us to work together towards a solution, whatever solution that is."

The Flare.

"Same thing goes for Teresa being sent here. She's the trigger— the ending. We're all being manipulated and tested to see if we make it out alive. Survival of the fittest."

"Th-this is all too much to take in." Teresa stuttered.

"Guys…" He caught their attention, making them all look back to him, instead of vacantly staring at the floor. "I'm one of **them**."

Minho made a heartbreaking face as he looked at Thomas, like he knew that what he was saying was real, but he didn't want to believe it.

"I worked with them… I watched you guys for years."

Actually, I did.

"The entire time you've been here—" he continued, "I was on the other side of it…" he licked his lips, glancing at Teresa. "So were you."

Teresa shook her head as tears started to form.

"And me…" My voice quietly croaked.

"Yes."

Newt's head whipped in my direction, and I could see his broken face in my peripheral. But he didn't know the whole story, and the migraine forming told me he wouldn't find out. Not yet, at least, but soon.

"No." Teresa rejected, "That can't be true..."

"It is. I saw it."

Newt finally looked away, and rubbed his chin with his hand as he anxiously looked away.

"Why would they send us up if we were working with them?" Teresa' broken voice asked quietly.

"Doesn't matter."

"He's right." I flinched at Newt's voice. He hadn't spoken in a while. He rubbed his face again, and then turned from me, to Teresa, to Thomas. "Doesn't matter. Any of it. Cause the people we were before the maze— they don't even _exist _anymore. These Creators took care of them." Newt stabbed a finger against the wooden cell, "What does matter is who we are now, and what we do right now."

His words gave me hope that maybe he wouldn't be so hateful of me when he found out.

"—You went into the maze and you found a way out!"

"Yeah but if I hadn't, Alby would still be alive."

Newt's eyes glazed over at the name of his deceased friend. He gulped, and his lips parted. "Maybe." He said quietly. "But I know that if he were here, he would be telling you the exact same thing. Pick your ass up, and finish what you started because if you do nothing, then that means Alby died for nothing and I can't have that." He shook his head as tears formed in his doe brown eyes.

"Okay," Thomas nodded. "But first, I have to tell you guys something."

Minho grumbled. "What else could you possibly tell us after that?"

"Teresa and I have a… gift." He looked to me to assure whether or not this was the right time to tell them. I nodded in reassurance.

"Spit it out!" Newt advocated.

"We're telepathic! We can speak to each other in.. erm— our heads…" His head dropped in shame, like it was some terrible embarrassing secret.

Newt blinked in surprise.

"But listen," Thomas continued, "That doesn't matter. What matters is the task at hand. We have to get through Gally."

* * *

"Okay, so we're good with the plan, right?" Minho, the only one standing while the rest of us remained on the forest floor, scanned our faces for answers. "In ten minutes or so the sun will start to set and Gally will retrieve you three, never mind if Thomas is unconscious." We all nodded, "I say we take advantage of that. Thomas, pretend like you're still out when they come and get you. That way we can catch them off guard. Florence, you stay here since Gally told you to watch him till he wakes up. The rest of us will go tell the others and Chuck will gather weapons and gear until the "Banishment"". He finger quoted, "Sounds good?"

"Good that," Newt replied, dusting himself off the earthy ground after he stood up. Teresa, outside of the Slammer now, nodded and moved over to Newt. I bobbed my head up and down in agreement.

"Alright," Minho looked down to Thomas and I, separated by a wooden cage, "See you in ten. Stick to the plan. Okay shanks?"

"Will do," I gave him two thumbs up.

He smirked, walking off. Newt and Teresa followed intimately behind, the dead leaves crunching under the thin soles of their shoes us they departed farther beyond Thomas and myself. Newt glanced back as he limped behind the other two, and gave me a soft smile, making my heart warm, before he was completely enclosed within the foliage, no longer being seen.

I turned back to Thomas, who was positioning himself on the dirt floor of the Slammer to retain his unconscious state. He folded his arms under his head, acting as a pillow for it, and spread his legs in the style of an eagle.

"Thomas, about what you said earlier…" I started, scratching the side of my face, "About the names," I continued, "You said that my name wasn't real. That it was just some nickname, like the others. I was already aware that those aren't your real names, and I don't know what your real name is, but Florence is my real name. So either you saw something or I've been veiled from something bigger and more important, involving me, by the Creators for a long time." I bit my lip, "And I hope it's not the latter…" I added.

He shot me a crestfallen look. "Florence, I know what I saw." He firmly held his statement. He leaned up on his elbows to talk to me, "Some of its hazy now… but I remember certain things crystal clear, and that memory is one of them. I saw more than that, too. But I didn't want to say anything in front of the others."

"Go on," I coerced.

"Okay," He sucked in a jagged breath. "I saw you, being tested on. They were cutting you open like a ragdoll. That's all I saw of you. Well, that, and you sitting at a desk touching screens and stuff. You had the swipe inserted in you, just like the rest of us. I saw it."

"No," I shook my head, "No you must have seen it wrong. I remember everything. I remember my family, I remember everything that happened, I don't have the swipe inserted into my brain. If I did, I would know."

"We didn't," He countered dolefully. "I know what I saw, Florence."

I frowned, not wanting to deem his words true. "No, Tom, you must have seen it wrong. Maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was someone else…." I thought about Group B. Rachel had long, dark brown hair with loose curls in it like I did but she had vivid blue eyes, and mine were a deep brown.

"Florence, it was you, and it kills me to say that. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this was planned all along? You're the main variable for this experiment. You have some important part in this trial. And did you ever think about how they've been manipulating you, and causing migraines in your head? How are they causing that? They would have had to insert something inside your body in order for them to control your speech. Wouldn't you remember that?"

Being too overwhelmed by the realism of his words, I shut my eyes tightly. I pinched the bridge of my noise and let out a jagged exhale.

"I think they forced false memories inside your mind. And I think you think that too."

He was right. But how could they do that? Did they even have the resources to do that?

"You're in this, just like the rest of us, Flo. The only difference is the counterfeit memories they placed in your mind." The dour truth of his words hit me like a runaway freight train, but I still didn't want to believe them.

"Florence." The undesirable tone of Gally's augury voice nettled me.

Thomas immediately faked unconsciousness after hearing the tone of Gally's voice and his head fell against the floor with a light 'thump'.

My head cranked up to the left to see him. Three builders behind him, one of them being Marcus, stood behind him acting as body guards as if Gally was some praised celebrity.

"He's not awake yet?" His ire voice asked.

I shook my head. "Clearly," I gestured to Thomas.

"Get him." Gally turned to the other two builders as he barbed a finger at Thomas. The tall, buff-looking builders (a common trait amongst them) nodded, and cut the vine strap that locked the Slammer to release him.

"Marcus," Gally raised his brows obnoxiously. He nodded at me, "Pick her up." Gally scowled at me as Marcus moved forward to make me his prisoner. The look Marcus shot at me almost appeared apologetic.

I tried to skip along as Marcus carried me along through the forest, while the other builderz literally dragged Thomas while his feet scraped along the floor.

Gally stomped along, barking orders at his servants as he passed people. Some grumbled, as they already had jobs to do (Like trying to salvage anything from the fires and the mass destruction last night) and others gladly obliged his request. Another one of Gally's followers practically pulled a protesting Teresa from what was left of homestead.

No one had to be told to gather around, eventually everyone just started to surround us as we got closer to the doors of the maze.

I could partially pick out the gladers who look prepared to leave. A lot of them turned to Minho, or Newt, waiting for the signal—whatever that was.

Smoke still decorated the glade, and once everyone emerged from the rubble left in this mess-of-a-home, encircling the three of us about to be banished, Gally started his monologue.

Stupidly, the two exhausted builders dropped Thomas body onto the floor as soon as we reached our destination.

Teresa and I exchanged a look when we saw three wooden poles set up, with rope around them, cemented into the ground with mud.

"What's this?" I looked to Gally. This wasn't what a normal banishing looked like. Then again was anything normal anymore?

"You'll find out," he pointed a finger at me, wiggling it. "This is such a waste…" he nonchalantly shrugged off with a sigh. "The three of you, all gone in one night. Especially after the major loss yesterday."

"Gally, don't do this," Winston tried to plead one last time. I felt Marcus tighten his grip around my wrist, and I didn't say anything as he yanked my arms like I was a prisoner.

Gally sent Winston the nastiest scowl I had ever witnessed. His hostile nature was not to be tampered with, clearly.

"It doesn't feel right, man." He continued.

"Yeah," Jeff joined, "What if Thomas is right? Maybe he can lead us home."

Gally glowered at Jeff. "We are home!"

"Gally." Gally whipped around to me at the sound of my voice. "We can't stay here forever. This isn't our home. What did you expect?"

"Yeah," Teresa added, "So do you really think banishing us is gonna solve anything?"

"No," He admitted, "But this isn't a banishing. It's an offering."

Before I had time to gripe, Marcus shoved me against the wooden pole, pushed my arms above my head and quickly tied the rope around my wrists.

"Gally!" Teresa shrieked, "What are you doing?!"

I tried to fight Marcus, but he was too strong. Instead I only released disgruntled groans.

"You really think I'm going to let Thomas back into the maze after what he's done?!"

I saw Thomas twitch in my peripheral.

"Gally!" I objected, "This won't solve anything! We were all sent here for a reason. Thomas didn't do anything!"

"Slim it Florence!" He screamed at me, making me wince at his thunderous volume. "Look around you! Look at our glade! This is the **only **way."

From the corner of my eye, I caught Newt over exuberantly scratching the bottom of his chin as he looked to Minho. Minho caught that motion, and gave a barely-noticeable nod. From behind the crowd, Chuck moved in with a bundle of spears, machetes, and other miscellaneous weapons, as well as packs and jars of water.

"When the griever's get what they came here for, everything goes back to the way it was." Gally falsely theorized.

"Are you listening to this?" Teresa turned to the crowd, while her wrists were still tied tightly to the pole, "Why are you all just standing there. He's crazy."

"Will you shut up?"

"She's right!" I vocalized, "If we stay here we die. The grievers are going to come back. They'll come back and they'll keep coming back until you're all dead."

"SHUT UP!" He screamed. "Tie him up!" He yelled at Marcus as he stood over Thomas. "Did you hear me?" He asked when Marcus made no means to move. "I said tie him up!" Marcus eyed me suspiciously. He sighed, then moved with another glader to go retrieve Thomas.

"NOW!" I yelled, and Thomas jolted up from his position. He elbowed the two in the crotch, and stood up as they let out loud yelp's, falling to the floor.

Everything flared up at that point. I heard the familiar nosie of Newt retrieve his Machete from the small pocket on the back of his pack, and he limped over to me. He cut the rope just above my hands, and did the same to Teresa, while Teresa kangaroo kicked her guard away.

Thomas snatched the spear one of the builders was holding and whipped around to warn his guard not to come closer.

Gally starting stomping towards us, but Minho stopped him by hazardously placing his knife on Gally's right shoulder.

Minho held the knife at the base of Gally's throat as he moved around him, making sure he didn't try anything.

Fry joined us, a few weapons in hand, and eventually Winston did too. I grabbed a knife from Newt and we all formed a wall, barring our weapons at the remaining gladers.

Thomas was in the middle, his spear pointing straight at Gally. His face was a foot away from touching the lethal weapon.

Chuck distributed weapons as Gally spoke. "You're full of surprises, ain't ya?"

"You don't have to come with us but we are leaving." Thomas ignored him. "Anyone else who wants to come, now is your last chance." He broadcasted.

"Don't listen to him, he's just trying to scare you." Gally told the gladers.

"No," Thomas shook his head, "I'm not trying to scare you. You're already scared. Alright? I'm scared. But I'd rather risk my life out there then spend the rest of it in here."

A moment of uncomfortable silence hung over the glade as the remaining few debated what to do. "We don't belong here," I stressed, "This place isn't our home. We were put here. We were _trapped _here."

"At least out there we have a choice," Thomas added. "We can make it outta here. I know that."

Jeff was the first to move. Being close to Gally, he gifted him a quiet, "I'm sorry" as he passed by him. Clint was next, and then surprisingly Marcus walked over. Another four stepped over the invisible boundary that split us up, and then we both observed our teams.

Gally nodded at his side, and then released a large exhale as he dealt with the reality. His head sank to the floor.

"Just come with us." Thomas pleaded with him one last time.

Gally eyes flickered up to Thomas'. His tongue pressed against his cheek, and he silence from before returned as they both stared at each other, Thomas waiting for Gally to speak.

"Good luck against the grievers." With that, Thomas spun around and led the assembly into the dim maze.

We all picked up a light jog, leaving the last of our old friends behind. As much as I disliked Gally, I would never wish being slaughtered by a griever on even my worst enemy. I was at the back of the group, with Chuck. We being the slowest meant we had to keep a lookout. No one said anything as we paced down the long corridor, lethal weapons in our hand as we faced our possible death. We had just loss a huge chunk of our family.

"This way!" Thomas pointed as we turned our first hallway.

We followed him, the fifteen— or so— of us all trailing behind Minho, Newt, and Thomas. I wanted a chance to speak to Newt before we possibly walked into a death trap, but m time was running out.

"You okay Chucky?" I asked, jogging beside him as he held his spear close to his chest.

He exhaled through his nostrils, without looking at me, and then nodded. "We aren't all going to make it, are we?"

I hated seeing how terrified he was, and I wanted him to go back to the maze for safety, but I knew in a few hours it would be more gruesome there then it would be here. "It's inevitable," I replied honestly.

"I know," he gripped his wooden spear tighter, his knuckles turning white as we zapped down another passage. He shut his eyes tightly and gulped. "Florence, I want you to know that you and Thomas were like siblings to me and—"

"Stop." I cut him off with a hand, "Don't say that, okay? Because I'm going to start crying, and that's no way to enter a fight. Chuck, you'll make it out of here. I'll have your back, Teresa will stick by your side. Just think positive, and you can do it."

I didn't know the reality of my words, but I wanted them to be truthful, and a little encouragement never hurt anyone.

I paused, stopping him as I placed a hand on his shoulder. "I love you, Chuck, we'll make it through." I kissed his head of brown curls, pausing for a moment to let that feeling sick in, and then shoved him towards the others. "Now let's go, catch up to the rest."

When he smiled contently, trudging away from me, I caught Newt watching us, only a few feet away, while the others were a few feet in front of him; still moving. I shifted into a light jog to meet Newt, than slowed to a walk once we greeted each other. He snaked an arm around my waste, and I leaned my head lightly on his shoulder as we watched Chuck sprint to the others.

"This was where I got attacked," I told him, pointing to the blood stains on the floor, "Shuck griever stabbed me in the leg. I was trapped underneath it. Then my muscle got caught in its leg and it tried to wipe me off like a piece of klunk."

He winced at my description. "Part of me still wants to buggin' hit ya for going back down in the Box and leaving me, but the other part of me knows you wouldn't be here if you didn't do that." He enlightened me with a frown as his eyes fell to the floor.

I didn't respond. I didn't know what to say.

The others were far from us now. They had probably turned a few times by now, and if it weren't for my trust in Newt's knowledge of the maze from previously being a runner, we would have been lost.

"Earlier, in the Bloodhouse, you said something while we were grabbing weapons…" he started.

I peered up at him as his arm dropped from my waist.

"You said you needed to tell me something, that it was important. Now's a better time than ever…" he said as he gave me a weak smile, ruffling his blond hair with his hand.

"I want to tell you…" My eyes sank to the floor. "But I can't."

I could feel his eyes piercing on to my figure. "Why's that, love?"

"It'll all make sense, soon enough; as soon as we get out of here." I explained vaguely. "Just promise me something," I looked up to him with promising eyes. The vacant expression he wore made me feel guilty for leaving him hanging with such a statement like that, but there was nothing I could do. "Promise me that once we got out of here, because we will," I said hopefully, "that you won't think of me any differently than you already do. Promise me that you won't abandon me despite what you're being brainwashed with."

He blinked in surprise.

"Do you trust me?" I asked him.

"Yes," He replied without hesitation.

"Good…" I nodded. "Good." I tried to process that, to grip onto his pledge. "Just give me your word that you won't hate me."

"What are you talking about?" he asked as he cocked his head, confusion spiraling around him.

"Everything's going to change." I disclosed.

"Flore—"

Before I gave him the chance to finish, I snatched him up by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to my height so our lips could meet. Our lips crushed together with such passion and zeal that it made me wants to stay right there, forever, and never leave. Our lips fit together like puzzle pieces, perfectly moving against one another. It marveled me that this was only the second time we had kissed. I wanted to apologize to him for not having enough time for each other, I wanted to say sorry to him for not embracing his company as much as I should have. I wanted to hug him, and I wanted to never think about WICKED, or grievers, or the Swipe, or anything ever again. I wanted it to be over.

"P-Promise me?" I whispered hoarsely when our lips pulled apart, and my fists slowly un clenched from his shirt.

He nodded, "Yeah. Yeah I promise, love." He was using that nickname for me much more often then he used to.

My lips quivered as I stared at the jarring form of Newt. I had watched him for so long behind the eyes of a beetle blade and now I was here, standing in front of him, kissing him. I was here, praying that I could die in his arms right here and then in the company of my family.

He pulled me into a tight hug, when he saw the tears start to pool together, threatening to spill over my eyelids. He squeezed me tight, one last time, and planted a tender kiss on my head as he pushed back my hair.

I thought back to the night of when I had my asthma attack, and when I felt him kiss my forehead, and how soft and gentle he was. I would savor these moments that would soon be gone. I took pleasure in all the memories I shared in the glade with everyone. Soon, the truth would come out. Soon, we would lose more members, possibly even Newt.

I could feel the storm coming, and I wasn't ready to face the thunder.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter it all goes down... *Bites nails nervously* Thanks for the reviews from HarleyHolmes,Soccergurl248, and Embers to Ashes. (Glad you like it)**

**Reminder: The Maze Runner belongs to the God that is Dashner! Only Florence belongs to me and a few story variations.**


	25. Before the End

We all huddled single file along a large stone wall. Beside the stone wall was a large gap, an opening, and beside that was another wall. Inside the gap was a long corridor with two strips of lethal falls beside it. At the end of the corridor was a door. The key to that door was a metal contraption in Minho's hand.

We all trembled and shook in fear as we prepared ourselves for war.

Thomas, the front of the line, slowly slid to the edge of the wall and peer around it. His body froze in fright, and he turned back to us with wide eyes.

"Is there a griever?" Chuck asked fearfully.

He gave a nod.

Chuck cursed, and everyone else nervously whispered to one another. I looked to Teresa, who bit her lip.

"You take this, Chuck." Minho handed Chuck the most important weapon in the war. The key. He was hesitant in grabbing it, but took it from Minho's trembling hands. "Stay behind us."

"It's okay," Teresa consoled, "Just stick with us."

I smiled softly at Chuck, ruffling his hair like I regularly did, then looked back to our leaders.

"Once we're through it'll activate and the door will open," Thomas explained, "We stay close, we stick together, and we get through this." Thomas paused, his nostrils flaring in rage and pure anticipation. He stabbed the bottom of his spear to the ground then faced the crowd. "Ready?"

"Wait… Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?" Minho asked the small mass.

"Go ahead," Newt gestured from the front of the line.

He nodded, pondering for a second, and then his eyes lit up. "Be careful, don't die."

If it weren't for the bone-chilling reality of death facing us around the corner, I would have laughed. I'm sure we all would have.

Newt rolled his eyes, "Great, we're all bloody inspired." That I had to snort at.

"How about this: We get out now, or we die trying?" Thomas remained expressionless.

"Better," I responded.

Everyone bared their weapons, preparing for the fight. I had never felt so exhilarated and so scared in my entire life. I looked to Newt, who was separated from me by a few gladers. He mouthed something to me, but it was all drowned out by the whoops and yells of our warriors. Before I could ask him to repeat it, he zapped around the corner with the others, and I was left with only Chuck and Teresa.

We stared at each other in shock and worry, and then we followed wuickly behind.

Everyone let out screams of fury and loud cries.

It was all so intense. One group of gladers stabbed at a glader, trying to kill it, while the others darted after another one, opting to just push it over the edge and down the lengthy canyon beside the path.

Growls and grunts came both from the gladers and the grievers.

I tried to keep up with Teresa as we ducked and dodged, but I couldn't help keeping my eyes glued to the safety of my friends. I held my knife closely to me, ready to use it.

There was a loud crya s Thomas stabbed the flesh of a griever, and it went tumbing over the edge. I smiled in unbeliavble happiness, and frowned when I saw it climb back up the edge.

"OH SHIT!" Thomas screamed, and I looked away.

The griever clawed onto a glader and sent it sailing in the air, towards the canyon to my right. I screamed in protest, trying to reach the dead being as it sunk to the bottom of the canyon.

The griever kept swinging its tail, trying to take out all of its enemies. They all jumped as it came around, like it was some sick twisted version of jump rope. He succeeded in grabbing one, and Teresa and I shrieked when we saw who it was.

Marcus let out a loud cry as he flew in the air and skidded across the pavement. I ran over to him just in time to see him fall over the edge nearest to me. I darted over to him, leaning over the edge of the small cliff as far as I could. Luckily, he had caught on to a protruding rock a foot below, but his grip was slipping.

"Teresa!" I called, "A little help!" I needed her to hoist me down like a rope so I could reach him.

"Little busy!" She called abck, and I looked over to see her in the exact same position with Chuck falling over the edge, face first, as he tried to keep a hold on the key.

I grew frenzy. I looked around, hoping to find something to save Marcus, but came up short.

I jumped as the griever swung it's tail around, and tripped as it caught the bottom of my foot. I smacked against the cement, and my face scratched against the dead leaves of a vine.

A vine!

That was it!" I looked around trying to find a vine, and I found a lengthy one, maybe three feet, and pulled it off the cliff it hung over. I zapped back over to Marcus, who clung on only with three figners, and feeded the rope down to him. He grunted as his hands slipped, but gasped as his hands touched the rough vine just in time.

I smiled down at him, almost proud of myself, and he greeted me back with an astonished grin.

"Thanks," He grunted as I pulled him up with my hands once he was close enough.

"No problem," I nodded, standing back up to look around.

The loss was depressing. We had lost, three, maybe four people by now, and there were more grievers.

The door had opened now, and Teresa and Chuck stood in front of a circular workpad screen.

"Thomas!" Teresa screamed, and then she was silent, yelling something to Thomas telepathically. Thomas eyes widened, and then he turned to Minho.

"HEY MINHO! Wah!—" he shouted, "What's the sequence!"

"What?!"

"The sections!" I shouted, finishing Thomas' words sicne he was a little occupied. "Eight sections to the maze, what's the sequence?!"

The griever let out sickly hiss as they all stabbed at it like a bullhorn to an elephant.

"Seven! One! Five! Two!" He paused, shouting as he dodge a claw, "Six! Four!"

"MINHO!" I shouted, looking up. A griever came from above, sailing straight down to pin Minho to the floor. It was on top of Minho, replaying the scene from a few weeks ago with me as he rolled around, avoiding its stabs.

Newt let out a fury scream as he let his praised machete loose, and stabbed it into the grievers head. But not even that stopped these beady-eyed beasts.

"Minho!"

"No!"

"Someone get him!"

"He's going to die!"

Minho held a stick across the grievers mouth, but it was only a matter of time before he chew threw it and got to his throat. Spit and slime dripped onto Minho's face and he grimaced.

I thought back to the night in the maze, and remembered the stalling technique they had used to save move. I darted around them, to the front of the griever, and shouted at his, trying to get its attention. "HEY!" I hollered, cupping a hand around my mouth, "OVER HERE!"

"What are you doing?!" Newt screamed at my drawing of attention.

I smirked, snatching the spear that was in his hands, and threw it at the griever's mouth.

It caught it, like a dog catching a stick, and started to saw through it with its teeth. I dove under, clipping my hands underneath Minho's pits, and towed him out of there.

Once t finished the spear, it started to go for Jeff. Jeff, with one last glint of hope in his eyes, stabbed the griever's eye. The griever spewed slime as it cried, and Jeff screamed as he was being thrown into the air. The other grievers moved in, ready to kill, and we retreated further back into the griever hole.

Winston cried in protest, and Clint screamed as Jeff disappeared.

"MINHO COME ON!" Chuck pushed.

The rest of the gladers left backed up into the whole, they're spers pointed at the advancing grievers.

"Six! Four! Eight! Three!" He yelled, "Got it?!"

I whipped to Teresa, who plugged the last number in.

The screen read: **COMPLETE**

And little green fireworks went off on it.

"KEEP HOLDING!" Thomas yelled.

"Everyone get back!" I ordered.

We all fit into the small, cylindrical tunnel, squishing against each other. We watched as three sets of doors started to close, grievers getting stuck between them.

They were all crushed, expect for one. Thomas threw a spear at it, and it cried, and then the last cement door met the floor, the griever in between it.

Green guts and slime splattered all over us, and somehow, I had never felt so relieved.

We were all confused as to what to do, and then a fan-like door, closed, and we all screamed, encompassed in darkness. I could feel everyone's warmth as we huddled closely together, looking for a way out in the inky blackness of this area.

There was a hissing noise, and the cement that previously had the workpad on, started to open. Dust flew everywhere as our freedom was revealed, and a few coughed. We exchanged glances, cautious of the situation.

I looked to Newt, who's mouth was open in astonishment, just like the rest, and slid past a few bodies.

I took the bait, and went first through the door, with hesitation though.

There were steps, and then we were met with a long corridor. I jumped as a light above me flickered, on, then another, and another. It went down both sides of the corridor, the light expanding, and we all shielded away from its fluorescent intensity.

The clicking noise of the lights turning on got quieter and quieter, until finally, all was silent. It was a sound I hadn't heard in a while.

Long poles snaked down the hall, and cords were taped to the wall. Besides that it was empty. No doors, no boxes, no people, nothing. Both sides curved slowly around, making the ending unable to be seen.

I bit my lip, and turned to the others.

"Which way?" Thomas asked me.

"This way," I pointed to the right. I had been in this hallway once, maybe twice, and although I wasn't sure if it was the right way, I had a feeling it was. I was being lured towards it. No one questioned my motives, just thought it was the spur of the moment, intuition type conjecture.

The only noise besides the pitter patter of our light footsteps, was an annoying buzz emitting from the fluorescent lights above us.

There was a sob from the back of our mass, and we all winced. So many of us lost…

I looked to Newt, whose face looked broken but hopeful. Was that possible?

My heart beat rapidly in my chest, making me feel like it would leap out any second.

A mouse scurried past us, and we all rotated our heads like an owl as it Bee-lined by us. Thomas exchanged a brief glance with me, and then kept leading the group. Teresa and him were communicating in their heads, I could tell from the lingering stairs and the unneeded facial expressions.

We approached a door after five minutes of walking, and a green caged light beside it flickered on.

"…Seriously?" Fry made a face as we all glanced up at the EXIT sign above the door in giant red letters.

"Almost seems too easy, eh?" I pointed out.

"That's an understatement." Fry's voice echoed in the hall.

Thomas was averse to grab the door handle and twist it to the right. I sucked in a breath as the door opened, and exhaled when it leisurely swung back.

The pandemonium was too much to comprehend. We all stood in front of the door, looking at each other speaking only via worried glances. Lights flashed on and off, smoke decorated the short hallway, bodies arranged across the floor, blood dripping from lethal wounds. An alarm blared distantly, and glass was shattered across the floor.

Thomas was tentative to step through the doorframe, like some kind of invisible force field sat in front of him, but once he did, everyone followed.

Newt was last, and I looked back to make sure he was joining. The expression on his face was unreadable. I held out a hand to him and whispered "Come on," and he pursued after me after placing his hand in mine.

His hands were rough, and dry; his palms cracked and stained with blood, but that didn't stop me from placing both hands around his, rubbing them together in a soothing motion. His face was still resting neutral, and he didn't perk up like usual at my touch, but it was understandable considering the morbid situation.

I recognized this to be the side door to the Hive, only the middle of the Hive room, where glass previously encircled out, was completely exposed now. Someone had shattered all the workpads, and murdered people in the process, apparently. But who had that kind of authority to just walk in here and kill everyone? WICKED had stashes and stashes of weapons, not to mention maximum security. Who else, besides WICKED themselves, had the power to cause this?

Something wasn't right.

No one spoke as we walked down the short hallway. We passed a medical examination room with a glass window, where two bodies lay flat with blankets draped over them, while pools of blood saturated the sheets.

Newt's hand flinched in mine, and I recoiled. I avoided looking at any bodies, but when I saw a familiar face laying on the floor, a bullet in her chest, I whimpered. It was Hannah. My mentor. She was basically like my supervisor when it came to controlling beetle blades. I flinched, gasping at the sight. Newt bumped into me, lightly wrapping an arm around the side of my body as he cupped my elbow from behind.

"Keep moving," He whispered so quietly that almost I didn't hear it.

I nodded, trying to stifle a sniffle, and joined the others.

The eerie silence made me shiver.

Minho approached another body, on the opposing team apparently. He was wearing grungy, dirty clothes, instead of the white uniforms regularly worn. He was wearing Scorch Clothes. His fingers loosely curled around a gun, and Minho kicked it out of his hands, like there was still some hesitation he would wake up and use, despite the mass of blood forming underneath his head.

Holding our breaths, we advanced into the main room. The room where I previously worked 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, watching the people I was with now.

There were plenty of screens lighting up around the hive, flashing blue and red; some white. The screen displayed sun flares, old news updates, and there were a few brain scans floating around the room on the workpads and there was a video, replaying and glitching out every five seconds.

The glass cracked under my feet as I dodged sparks that fell from a broken light above. We all moved around the Hive, observing its mysteries. Bullet casings and white lab coats splayed across the floor, along with toppled chairs.

Newt drifted from my side and joined the others in curiosity as they circled the Hive. He placed his palms on the desk and leaned forward to watch a live feed of the glade with Frypan.

Thomas took his place next to me, and gave me a discerning look. "What the hell is this place…?" He whispered.

"The Hive…" I replied, avoiding eye contact.

"What is all this… stuff…?" He gestured to the destruction.

"I can assure you it wasn't like this when I left." I whispered back.

"What do we do now?" He continued his inquisition but I floated away from him. He made a face at me, but I disregarded it as I advanced towards my workplace. I could feel his eyes lingering on me as he watched me mourn over my desk. The workpad was smashed, but it was still alive; partially. It glitched constantly, while random files popped up with an ERROR note in the foreground of the pad.

My fingers grazed over the cracked glass, and my hand stopped when I touched a holographic picture, sitting on the desk. It also anomaly malfunctioned. It was Aris and I, the first day I had arrived at WICKED. I looked so young there, only ten or so. Now I was seventeen, or so I thought.

"Who's that?" Thomas asked.

I heard glass chink behind me, and I rotated my head to see Newt slowly leaving the curious mass of gladers that was left, and advancing towards us. I made a few swiping motions and pressed the off button before he approached us.

Thomas widened his eyes at my motions and Newt just gave us an odd look.

"Teresa's calling me," He stated, walking away from us as he fashioned a vacant look. She hadn't verbally said anything to him, so Newt made a face.

"Still won't get over that buggin' telepathy klunk."

"Neither," I rolled my eyes upwards.

"You alright?" he asked, lightly grazing my arm with the pads of his thumbs.

I nodded, sliding my tongue over my bottom lip. "You—"

But before I could finish, I heard a voice. A familiar voice. The voice of the only WICKED employee I would continue to look up to, despite the circumstances. Chancellor Ava Paige.

The remaining few huddled around a large screen on the back wall, a projected image from the Hive. AS if the room could get any more tranquil, it stilled after Newt and I joined in curiosity.

"Hello," She greeted us, "My name is Doctor Ava Paige." I flinched at her voice, earning a glance from Newt and Fry. "I'm Director of Operations of the World Catastrophe Killzone Department. If you're watching this that means you have successfully completed the Maze Trials. I wish I could be there in person to congratulate you— but circumstances seem to have prevented it. I'm sure by now you must all be very confused... angry... frightened. I can only assure you that everything that has happened to you; everything we've done to you, it was all done for a reason. You won't remember, but the sun has scorched our world."

Images flashed across the screen, news reports, cell phone videos, pictures of scorched bodies, wasteland, it was terrible. It brought back the memories that I longed to forgot. Maybe I had, maybe they were false like Thomas had hypothesized.

"Billions of lives, lost to fire, famine. Suffering our global state. The fallout was unimaginable."

Everyone watched with wide eyes, and Newt gasped slightly beside me. Thomas bowed his head in shock and in respect.

"What came after was worse." I bit my lip as she continued to speak. "We call it the Flare. It's a deadly virus that attacks the brain. It is violent. Unpredictable. Incurable." Everyone watched in horror as they showed security footage of Cranks reacting to treatment in the medical sector of WICKED. "Or so we thought." She smirked. It was the first time since watching her that I noticed what was happening in the backdrop of her video. She shot it in her office, and behind her was war. WICKED employees attacked people wearing Scorch Clothes. The rugged looking opposing team fired guns, and some went down. Glass broke, and chairs fell over.

"In time a new generation emerged that could survive the virus. Suddenly, there was a reason to hope for a cure, but finding it would not be easy. The young would have to be tested-" Thomas glanced back at me. "Even sacrificed inside harsh environments, where their brain activity could be studied. All to understand what makes them different. What makes _you _different." She directed at us. "You may not realize it, but you're very important. Unfortunately, your trials have only just begun. As you will soon discover, not everyone agrees with our methods. Progress is slow, people are scared. It may be too late for us… for me… but not for you."

The background got worse, and WICKED seemed to have lost the fight. Someone shot the glass behind the Chancellor's head, and the glass cracked like a growing spider web across it.

"The outside world awaits. But remember—" She paused, lifting a gun out of thin air and pressing it against her temple. Saying those famous words, she shut her eyes. "WICKED is good."

Everyone recoiled at the sound of the gunshot, and I found a way to shut the video off.

"Florence," Thomas addressed me, but the whole crowd turned. We all watched as he neared a lifeless body. Her recognizable face made me whimper in shock as I lifted my hand to my mouth. It was Ava Paige, deceased, with a bullet wound in her head. I wish I hadn't looked. It was gruesome.

A large mechanical door divided open beside us, causing us all to snap our heads towards it like a flock of chickens startled by someone.

A siren started going off, and a yellow light beside the door flashed.

"Is it over?" Chuck vocalized the thought we were all thinking as we aimlessly analyzed the open doorway, which led to another hallway that had a door at the end of it.

"…She said we were important." Newt murmured as he started nervously rubbing the back of his head. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Just as everyone else did, I looked to Thomas for answers. Unanticipated though, he looked to me. Once he saw that I had no knowledge of our next step, he licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak. "I don't know…" he whispered as his eyes sank to the floor. Seconds later, he lifted his head and nodded at the open doorway in front of us. "Let's get out of here."

A small smile formed on his lips as he took the first step to freedom, but they were stopped by a voice.

"No."

It was Gally.

"Gally…" Thomas was the first to speak. He pushed Chuck and I behind hima s he stepped forward to him.

"No," I grabbed his shoulder.

"He's been stung," Teresa continued for me.

With no serums or Med-Jack supplies to save him, we remained hopeless in a state of devastation. Gally's eyes were bulging and bloodshot, and his body trembled. Blood dripped from him like rainwater after a downpour, and his bottom lip jutted out as spit drooled down his face.

He dropped the key, which we had stupidly left in front of the griever hole, and he lifted his gun into the air, making everyone flinch.

Newt grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him, but I peered over his shoulder to see.

Gally appeared like he had been crying. "We can't leave…" he shook his head, sniffling as his eyes could possibly widen even more. The gun shook in his hands as he lifted it a little higher.

Protectively, Thomas stood in front of everyone as he cautiously moved his hands towards Gally. "We did it, Gally, we're out." He paused, "We're free."

"Free?!" He huffed a breath, "You think we're free out there?" He gestured towards the door with his free hand. "No. No theres no escape for this place." I was speechless as Gally lifted the gun even higher and pointed it straight at Thomas.

Newt, along with the rest of the flock, tensed in response. I sucked in a breath, ready to take action if I had to, and if I could get around Newt.

Thomas raised his hands even higher in the air in surrender. Gally let out a small sob as Thomas spoke. "Gally, listen to me. You're not thinking straight. You're not. But we can help you. Just put down the gun."

I felt like I was watching some heart wrenching movie scene, only it was much much worse considering it starred the ones you loved.

"I belong to the maze…"

"Just put down the gun."

I wanted to intervene, but I couldn't find the words to say. Instead I cowardly remained behind Newt.

"We all do." There was some sort of internal fight as Gally made winched and cranked his neck to the side, releasing another shaky sob. "I…. have to…." He let out a croaky cough.

"Gally—" I started, but didn't have the time to finish.

Chaos returned as Gally pulled the trigger. A bullet ricocheted through the air. Minho, out of nowhere, lifted a spear and catapulted it into the center of Gally's chest. With a sickly squish, it entered his torso and he fell to the floor with a heavy thump.

Glass broke somewhere distantly, and everyone just stared in shock, their mouths gaping at the sight of Gally's deceased body. A deathly silence hung over us as we were left still.

Chuck coughed. "Thomas…"

My eyes descended upon Chuck, and I gasped. Crimson red saturated his ragged, white shirt. "No Chuck!" I leaned forward, hopping over Newt as Thomas caught Chuck's slumping body.

Thomas hovered over his body, kneeling beside the boy he could so easily call his brother, and he shook it. "Chuck… Chuck no…." He breathed. "Shit shit shit… no…." As if it would help, he placed his hands over top of Chuck's bleeding out lesion, while Chuck struggled to breath. I lifted a hand to my mouth. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. "Look at me! Chuck! Stay with me…"

Chuck's breathing became wheezy, and Thomas' voice cracked every time he repeated the name of one of his closest friends who was dying before him. I leisurely moved to the floor, and placed both palms on the cold ground as I watched in shock. I had promised him we'd survive…. Chuck was supposed to live, just like the rest of us. He was young, but he was strong. He was juvenile, but mature. He was one of the most influential people I had ever met, in both lives, and he of all people didn't deserve to be bleeding out in front of his loved ones, not knowing what really lies behind the other side of those walls.

"It's okay," Chuck told his best friend, gripping his bicep. Chuck let out another struggled breath, and dug for something. He brought a small, carved, figurine out of his pocket and held it in front of Thomas, wheezing in and out.

I let out a small sob as the tears came, without permission, rolling down my face. I sat behind him, and I moved my fingers through his dark curls, hoping that would make this process more bearable for the both of us.

"No no… Chuck." Thomas shoved his hands away. "You're going to give it to them yourself," he tried to convince himself more than his friend. "Remember? I told you that…" His trembling voice made my body numb.

"Take it…" he ordered. Obliging with a heart-wrenching face, Thomas finally moved his hands towards Chuck. "Thank you…" The words barely escaped his lips.

Chuck started struggling as the pool of blood underneath him grew, and he struggled to obtain oxygen.

"No…" Thomas cried. "No. Chuck." Chuck sucked in one last breath, and his eyes started to roll, making the whites visible. He exhaled, one last time, and the last final beat of his heart transpired.

"Noo…." I heard both Thomas and I say at the same time. My world exploded around me. Thomas shook his friends lifeless body, repeating his name over and over. "Chuck! Wake up! Chuck… No! God Dammit Chuck wake up!"

He was dead.

Chuck was dead, and there was no way to bring the boy I loved like a brother back.

Thomas voice was the only sound. His words were broken, and cracked. And he croaked a word every now and again as sob's escaped his chest. "CHUCK!"

Finally excepting it, Thomas broke down. Tears came like a waterfall, and his head fell against Chuck's chest.

Everyone was torn apart at the site of Chuck. Even Minho. Yeah he was a little weasel sometimes, and his pranks went too far occasionally, but he was one of the most loving, caring beings.

Newt's eyes watered as he lifted a hand to his mouth, watching in horror as Thomas wailed against his friends deceased body.

"We made it…" He tried to pull Chuck by the collar of his shirt. "Come on…" A loud squealing nosie sounded behind us, and everyone's heads snapped towards it. Except for Thomas, Newt's and I's. "GOD DAMMIT!" He bellowed into the air, slamming his fists against the floor.

I bit my lip.

I bright light opened up behind us and that was when I looked at the door. It was open, and shadows emerged from the blinding white as they neared us. They grew and grew and grew, and features sprouted as they neared us. They were here to save us. Or were they?

There were three figures advancing, and the closest one trudged towards me, gun in hand. He was dressed in Scorch Clothes but that didn't stop me from recognizing his eyes.

There green, and vivid, and they made my body go numb—and not in a pleasant way.

"No…" I breathed, as he shifted into a light jog, swinging the strap of his gun over his shoulder to hold it in his hands. "No, please… no…" This was it. This was where they were going to find out.

Everyone's heads snapped to me as I retreated a step. Newt gave me the most marveled look I had ever witnessed, and he took a step towards me but I recoiled. Thomas, in curiosity, also perked up, while wiping his tears with his sleeves. His face snapped into realization, and he stood erect.

"No!" I shielded my arms in front of my face as I started to withdraw at a quicker pace. "Alistair!" My voice cracked when I shrieked his name.

As soon as his name came out of my mouth, the room went still. The other two men slowed to a walk as they approached the gladers, and Alistair, a man I knew so little about, but feared me so much, lunged for me. I yelped as he grabbed my forearms. He moved around me, and kicked the back of knees, making me slump onto the ground.

I looked like a prisoner, him playing the role of a jail guard.

Alistair firmly held one shoulder, while I kneeled in a straight posture, facing the remaining gladers like I was on trial. My eyes fixed on Newt's. As if I hadn't cried enough already, I let out a small sob.

"What are you doing?" Newt pushed through the other gladers and stood forward, beside Minho and Thomas. Thomas shielded himself from watching by putting a hand in front of his eyes. "Let her go, or I'll bloody—"

"You'll 'bloody' what?" he mimicked Newt's accent, and it made me want to kick him. But I had this strong feeling he was much stronger then I was and he would have me pinned down before I even had the chance to turn around.

He was speechless. His lip trembled as he tried to find the words to say, what questions to ask. "I thought you were here to save us?" Minho vocalized for him, looking from Newt to Alistair.

I peered behind me to see Alistair scowling at the boys. He removed the cloth over his mouth so his mumbled words could be more audible. "I'm here to save **you**." He stabbed a finger at the boys with his free hand, letting his gun slump to his side. "**She** –" he glanced down at me, and pushed my head forward so I'd face them. Newt flinched. "Isn't going with you guys"

They all looked at him in horror, even Thomas. Teresa even wiped away a stray tear.

"Don't listen to him," I shouted at them, trying to scoot forward on my knees. "Whatever you do—"

"Shut it, Florence." He shook his head. "They were bound to find out sooner or later anyways."

"Find out what?" Winston asked from the back of the flock.

"Tell them," he dug his gun into the rear of my back. "Tell them or I will."

My bottom lip jutted out, trembling, and I shook my head.

"What's he talking about, Florence?" Newt took a step forward. "Do you know this shuck face?"

I sniffled as a tear slid down my right cheek. It hung over my jaw line until it finally fell to the floor with a silent splash.

"Florence…" Newt's face pained me. His brows drew together, and his fists clenched. He frowned as he neared another cautious step and his jaw tensed. He started sightlessly at me as his nose scrunched up.

Minho's eyes darted all over the place, analyzing faces. Thomas remained expressionless as he watched everything, and Teresa looked poignant. The others were either frozen in shock, slack-jawed, or flabbergasted.

In annoyance, Alistair moved to my right and he glared down at me. "Tell them," he recited with a gravely dangerous tone.

I shut my eyes, sucking in a breath, and listened to the sound of my own heart rapidly beating in my chest. In a blur, I pulled the gun slung over Alistair's body and pointed it at the side of my temple.

"Woah!" Someone yelled from the back of the crowd. Alistair didn't try to pull back. Thomas and Newt lunged forward, Newt closer, and hazardly moved their hands towards me.

"Shoot me…" I told him, my voice barely a whisper. "Do it, shoot me." AIistair just smirked, making my blood boil more than it already was. "SHOOT ME!" I screamed at him, making everyone jump.

All was quiet, until finally, a small chuckle escaped his mouth. It grew, and grew, and grew, and everyone stared at him in disgust. He laughed in such a cynical matter.

"No can do, sweetie." He shook his head. He pushed my head to the side, and in some sort of rapid movement, he snatched his gun back, swung it over his shoulder, and moved around to the same position he was before. Only this time, he held my wrists in restraint, his fingers acting as handcuffs. I grunted as I struggled to escape.

Newt's eyes started to pool with liquid as he gazed down on me.

My trembling lips tried to say something, tried to form words, but I felt like a dyslexic person, or a person with a phobia of speaking.

"Tell them." He growled through gritted teeth one last time.

I shook my head, hoping he'd take it easy on me and shoot me instead of letting me live and watch the horror of this exposition.

"Fine!" he shouted, yanking my wrists tighter as he straightened his posture. "I'll tell them." He smiled devilishly.

"No!" I cried, "No no no…. Don't listen to him."

"Florence works for WICKED." Whispers broke out amongst the room, but that didn't stop him from continuing. "She volunteered herself to enter the maze and act as a variable for you guys."

"No I didn't!" I uttered throatily. "That's a lie—"

"She remembers everything since she went up in The Box and has been keeping it from you. WICKED purposely didn't enter the Swipe into her brain so she could act as a spy. She's been watching you and when she hurt her leg, she reported back to them."

"Stop it!" I screamed, spit flying everywhere. "Stop lying!"

Newt had a hard time keeping it together. His lip quivered and his eyes twitched as he tried to remain collected. Minho remained expressionless. The other gladers looked to each other, except Teresa, whose eyes sank to the floor as she telepathically talked to Thomas in her brain. He was most likely telling her the truth, or maybe he didn't believe my version of the truth. Maybe he was telling her that he thought I was lying.

Newt's lips tightened into a slim line and they turned white from the force of his lips pressing together.

"Newt…" I tried to reach out to him.

"Is he telling the truth?"

My world fell to ruins around me as I saw the face of the person I care about most break after I gave a slow nod. He shot me a cold look as his fists clenched tighter and tighter, his nails digging into his owl flesh. He started to pace back and forth as he exhaled furiously though his nostrils.

"I can explain, okay? It's not entirely all true! They forced me into the maze, I never volunteered—"

"**_I shucking trusted you!_**" His voice shook the room, causing everyone to silence. He pinched the bridge of his nose and continued to pace. He stabbed a finger at me and his lips trembled. "I shucking trusted you…" he repeated quieter now.

"Newt I—"

His bitter eyes contained no traces of sympathy. Nor did they seem optimistic of my words. "You knew the way out of the maze this whole bloody time. You were just wasting our time!" He didn't look at me as he spoke; he just paced back and forth, pulling at his hair.

"I never knew!" I tried to tell him, "I never knew I swear! I tried to tell you guys, they wouldn't let me. They stopped me from saying anything! They were controlling us—"

He froze, and looked to me. His lips parted as he leaned over to me and vocalized two words that crushed me. "Stop lying…!"

My mouth shut, and I relaxed, sitting back on my knees as I dropped my head. What on earth did I do to deserve this? A thought came to mind, and I opened my mouth. Nothing came out, though. Nada. Zilch. They wouldn't allow me to tell them that Alistair worked for WICKED.

Only a small whimper escaped.

Minho looked suspicious of the situation. Maybe, being potentially one of the smartest in our group, he saw the truth.

"You're coming with me." Alistair, yanked me vertical, and I winced as my arm twisted back painfully.

"Wait… No…" But his grip was too strong. He started pulling me back towards the Hive and towards the only other door not smashed to smithereens in the room.

"Take the others to safety," He told the two other men, shooting them a coy wink.

"Wait!" I tried to pull away from his tight grip, but it was no use. He lugged me the other direction as my feet dragged across the floor, and kicked and pulled, but I was too weak. I was weak, and cowardly, unfit, awkward, a failure, and not good enough to even survive the second trial anyways. I gave up, but I didn't give up without a few tips for the others. "Listen to me you guys!" I screamed, "Listen— okay? I never knew a way out! They forced me in there! And Newt, God dammit Newt you have to trust me. There are others. There's another group, group B— be careful, this could be a tra—"

"Close your mouth before I do it for you." Alistair cut me off, momentarily seizing our departing journey.

"Tell them, Thomas!" I nodded at him.

My face was swollen, and red, but it didn't pain me as much as it did seeing my family stare at me, while words like 'betrayer', 'deceiving', and 'shuck-face' whirling in their minds at the thought of me.

"Just please…" I pleaded, swallowing, "Please be careful. Be careful who you trust. Keep moving, keep working. It's not over. How very little can be done under the spirit of fear."

Newt's eyes softened at the sound of my voice returning to normal. I had accepted my fate. I had lost the fight. No more tears, no going out cowardly, I wouldn't die in vain.

"That's enough," he swung me back, and I yelped as I stumbled over a chair, moving towards the door.

"Wait!" Newt lifted a hand, leaping forward. "Wait—don't take her. Where are you taking her? Please— don't take her. If she's a spy for WICKED, we may have an advantage by taking her."

"She's as good as nothing_, boy_." He shook his head. "We're better off killing her."

"Wait what?" I shrieked, breaking out of his grip. I widened my eyes at him, and just like before, he winked at me. Earlier, he wouldn't allow it. Now he wanted to murder me. Was the whole objective to reveal my secret? I was a variable, that was my job, was I still acting as a variable?

"Let's just settle down here…" Minho stepped forward. "We don't have to kill her. Like Newt said, she could be an advantage. Maybe we can hold her hostage. Or we could just set her free. From the mixed signals I'm getting between the two of you, I have a strong feeling she won't do anything. Besides, aren't they all dead?" he gestured to the bodies.

"Not all," He shook his head, "There's other buildings, more employees. This was just their headquarters. That's why we're breaking you ungrateful assholes outta here."

"Well— just hold on for a second." Minho tried to bargain. "We'll figure out what to do with her. She doesn't have to die."

I was utterly speechless. These people would hate me for the lies that they were fed, but they still protected me. I guess that's what family did.

"No can do, buddy." He frowned, his head moving from side to side again.

Taking my last chance, I turned to the gladers knowing something bad would occur soon. Either I'd be dead, or I'd be escorted away against my own will.

"Newt," I stepped forward, "Listen to me. You may hate me, jut remember what I said in the maze. Okay?"

His eyes were glazed as he fixed onto me.

"Promise me you'll stick together. Okay— just…be careful. I never knew a way out, I never volunteered, I would never lie. I was never a spy. . I swear I tried to tell you guys. I love you guys more than anything. You're my shucking family." I bit my lip as the tears returned and I stepped away from Alistair. "Okay?" My voice was barely audible now, as I tried to suppress the sobs "We're a famil—"

I never finished that sentence.

What came next was unexpected, even for me.

The sound of a gun going off ripped through my ears as if I was side by side with a fireworks display. There was a sudden pressure, and then a dead silence as everything slowed to a sluggish pace. Newt's face expressed stress and fear. His mouth opened wide, and he shouted something, but it came out as silence. His eyes were wide and he leaped forward at an unrealistically leisure pace. The whole flock broke out in a frenzy. I felt like I was in a movie. Everyone started to panic, in slow motion, and I was left momentarily deaf and confused.

Until I felt the bullet hit my back.

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**A/N: Alright... so everything's still confusing, I know. I may have lied last chapter... _SHES NOT DEAD. THIS ISN'T THE LAST CHAPTER._ Next chapter is the last chapter. I may upload it tonight, considering I already have it pre-written. I just need to edit. Leave a review, tell me your thoughts. Thanks for the reviews from Anne(It's not over yet! Still two more chapters), Guest, Emma, Regular Reader, fiercetiger333, bmdrwho12, Bad Dancer, and Embers to Ashes.**


	26. Subject A11: The Seed

The bullet was nowhere near my spine, but it was close enough to kill me. My mouth dropped and I was left breathless. I gasped sharply.

Another shot went off, and the only sound I heard was the casing hitting the floor. Another, and one more, until finally, I started to fall. Four bullets had entered my body, and I couldn't even begin to describe the pain. The echo of the ear-splitting rattle rung in my ears. Just as I thought my face was going to come in contact with the floor, someone caught me.

My atmosphere returned to its regular pace, and I exhaled. My body, flowing with adrenaline, tried to hold my savior, grab them.

The other person drooped to the floor and rolled me over to look at the ceiling.

Newt.

"No no no…. Not you too. Not you too." His eyes were pleading and pooled with tears. "Not you too… Florence… Listen to me. Listen to my voice."

It was the oddest experience I had ever been through. I felt weak, and numb, but the pain had completely dispersed. I just felt like I was being put under anesthesia. I couldn't open my mouth to talk. All I could do was look around, my eyes whizzing around.

"Blood shuckin' hell!" He shouted, his head rising to Alistair. "What did you do?!" He wheezed as he inhaled. "No no no…. Stay awake, listen to me. Listen to my voice. LOOK WHAT YOU DID." He screamed, spit airborne from his mouth.

I readjusted my head in his lap to look at the others. Teresa couldn't even watch. Her head was on Thomas' shoulder; facing the open door. Minho, smug, brawn, Minho actually had a tear fall from his eye. I guess so many deaths in one day did that to a person.

He rocked me back and forth, our bodies swaying from side to side and he pulled me closer to his chest. I felt suffocated in his embrace, but I didn't mind. The weirdest part was I didn't feel like I was dying… The copious amounts of blood told me differently, though.

"No no no…." he murmured over and over, rocking us back and forth. "You promised me…" He whispered, sniffling. "You buggin' promised me…." His forehead touched mine, and I closed my eyes, letting out a small cough.

"Don't close your eyes. Please please please…."

I heard a few sobs, and a few cries.

"Please please please… no no no…."

Everyone was silent. Everyone was still. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt droopy and relaxed. I tried to move my muscles, but they were stiff.

There was a small whimper from Newt, until finally, I was announced dead.

"I'm sorry." Alistair lied with his gruff voice. "It had to be done."

But I wasn't dead. I could still hear everything, I could still see everything, but I couldn't move, I couldn't open my eyes. I was paralyzed.

"No…." Newt wouldn't accept it. "No. She's not dead."

"Newt—" Minho started.

"No Minho!" Newt yelled; his head turning away from me. "No, this isn't real."

"Sadly, boy, it's all real." Alistair pronounced with a sigh.

"Slim it! Okay? Slim it! God dammit…." His voice continuously cracked as he tried to speak through the tears and sobs. "Bloody shuckin' dammit…"

"Newt…" Minho repeated his name.

"Come on buddy," Winston joined, "It's time to go."

I wanted to cling on to him, tell him not to leave, but I was immobile.

"No!" He screamed, "No, just leave me here."

There was a large groan and grunt as someone tried to retrieve Newt. I felt him struggle underneath me, and his elbow came into contact with my arm. "No! Let me go! Let me go. Minho put me down or I'll bloody—"

"Take them to the helicopter," Alistair dictated the others. "I'll take care of her and the other boy. I'll catch up later."

"No no _noooooo!_" Newt's protest rang through my ears, until finally, after a large shuffle of footsteps; I heard the mechanical door slide shut with an echoing thunder.

All was silent.

"Alright," Alistair groaned as he snaked an arm underneath me and lifted me over his shoulders. We sauntered somewhere, but I couldn't see where. "Everything's still kind of confusing…" was he talking to me? Was I really dead? "And I know you're wondering 'Why can I hear everything?' 'Why can't I move?' 'Why am I not dead?' And I'll explain it to you, but first…" I felt my body drop to the floor lightly. "Let me take the bullets out."

There was a loud ding, and that was when I realized we were in an elevator.

It stung as he dug pliers into my back, pulling out the four lethal bullets.

As soon as they were out, I gasped for air, my body finally becoming mobile again. I coughed and coughed and coughed, then finally scanned my surroundings. We were in the elevator. I was on the floor, sitting in the left corner farthest from the doors, and he stood above me, fiddling with his pack to put the bloody pliers back.

I blinked in surprise, and he smirked. "So you know who I am, so I'll skip the introductions. What you were shot with is called a neurostim dart. It feels like a bullet, and looks like a bullet, but it never actually harms you. The blood that came out of you was partially your own, but most of it came from these suckers," He held up a crimson red, dripping bullet between his lean fingers. He let it drop, and it fell to the floor with a clang. "Think of it like a paintball… only worse. Once it hits you it releases a blood-like WICKED once it attaches to the skin, making you look dead. Around thirty seconds later, it starts to release a toxin that momentarily leaves you paralyzed."

"Why'd you do that?" I asked, scooting backwards, "They think I'm dead."

"That's the point, sweetie." Ugh. I hated him calling me that. The elevator dinged, and he held out his hands to hoist me.

I took them, hesitantly, and stood erect as I dusted myself off. The doors slid open, and my mouth dropped as we walked through the doors. We were in the Hive. It was the exact same room as before. There were only a few people working, some who were supposed to be downstairs dead. IT was an exact replica. That's why I wasn't familiar with that hallway. It was on the lowest floor, beneath the crank ward.

"Confusing, I know." He placed a hand on my back and led me forward. "Downstairs was a replica; a set up. No one died, none of ours at least. They need to see this to believe they're escaping, but they're going to the Scorch. That's the next trial. The reason you're not going with them, is because you're a variable, which is the same reason we faked your death. That was some pretty sick Romeo and Juliet crap back there eh?" he hiked a thumb back.

I frowned.

He rolled his eyes, continuing our walk. "Anyways, their kill zone's spiking tremendously at your death. Chuck's death was… unplanned. We didn't think A9: or Gally, as you refer to him, would actually follow you guys. Good news: He might actually survive. Medics are heading down there now. Bad news: Chuck isn't going to live. That was a real gun."

I clenched my fists as the wave of pain resurfaced at the mention of his name.

"Unfortunately, everyone else who remained in the maze is gone. It's just you guys. Fortunately, they're heading into their second trial within a few days. Progress is speeding up. But you're not doing your job."

"Job?" I spat, catching a few glances from other employees, "What's my job? I don't even know what my job is…"

"You're romantically compatible with Thomas, which is the reason you're here. That's why you were allowed to talk to him and no one else. An expert matched him with a couple of survivors a few years back. You were compatible. Perfectly, actually…. so that's why you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't figure it out earlier."

"Thomas?" I snorted, "Gross…"

"I'm serious, Florence. You're supposed to interact with him, vary his Killzone. He's our most prized candidate. That's why you're still here. But, typical you, you fell in love with the wrong subject."

I frowned at his choice of words.

"That's why we took you, to tell you."

"Are you going to return me?"

"Eventually. In circumstances of good behavior."

I rolled my eyes as we exited the Hive through another door, and entered a white hallway; only one door at the end.

"Now I guess now is a good of time as any to spill the beans. We did manipulate your memory." He divulged

My jaw dropped.

"Hate us as much as you want, but it's all in the name of science. It's all to work towards finding a cure for mankind. WICKED is good. We inserted the swipe in you once we found out you and Thomas were compatible. While doing that, the Doctor faked memories to prepare you to enter the maze a few years later. That's why you know about the Flare, and the scorched earth, and everything."

I was done being mad. I opened my mouth to cuss, and swear, and yell, but I closed it. What's done was done. I would just find a way to retaliate.

"Your brother wasn't real, that was just for you to create a connection with Chuck. Your parents weren't real. You weren't taken from school. I apologize sincerely, but none of it was real. I've left a file on the table inside this room with your name on it. Technically I'm not supposed to show you... But you're a pretty curious girl. I pulled some strings. After everything you've been through, you deserve it. You can read about it all you like, but we can't take the Swipe out of your brain just yet."

I exhaled, my eyes sinking to the floor as I processed all this.

"I'll come to retrieve you in the morning. Take a nap inside here, read, and relax. Tomorrow we'll talk plans and priorities. Right now, your priority should be Thomas."

I bit my lip.

He shook his head and sighed. "Still can't believe you fell in love with the wrong subject. Only you would fall in love with one of the only subjects that survived the maze trails that isn't immune." He let out a nonchalant chuckle.

My hand, gripping the door handle so tightly that my knuckles turned white, released. "Wait. What?"

"Oops." He made a face at me. Like a combination of a frown and a smile. It made me want to smack the expression off. "Lover boy's not immune from the flare. In fact, he's probably already caught it by now."

The calamity of his words hit me in an instant, like a punch in the gut. All the air was sucked out of me and I felt dizzy for the zillionth time that day.

I felt miffed, indignant, grief, wretchedness, sorrow. Newt couldn't be a crank. Newt couldn't die. This wasn't real. This was a really terrible dream. I was probably back in the glade sleeping with Newt in the hammock.

I had forgotten that Alistair was still standing there. He eyed me awkwardly and actually apologized for being so blasé about it. "I'm sorry Florence." He shot me a look of misfortunate pity and sympathy. With a simple shoulder touch, he departed back don't he hallway. But not before spinning back around. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow begins phase two."

Phase two.

Those two words repeated themselves over and over, duplicating in my brain like a broken record, even after I staggered into the white room. It was much different from our normal dorms. WICKED had changed. Things were progressing, they were getting more serious. There was a small table in the middle of the room, with a white chair in front of it. There was a small, white, speaker on the wall farthest from me; an intercom, used for announcing services. To my left was a bed that was actually imbedded in the wall, a small rectangle surrounding it instead of the laid-back bunk beds I shared last time at WICKED. The bed had two pillows, a thing blanket, and a pair of white scrubs with WICKED's logo on them; standard uniform.

I changed into the close, trying to keep everything together, but as soon as I collapsed onto the bed, I let it all out like a broken dam.

So many dead. So many going to die. Chuck was gone. My sweet, prankster, joker, Chuck was laying dead in a morgue, a bullet wound in his chest. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. What on earth did I sign up for?

The only thing that gave me hope was Newt's words once he thought I was dead. He still cared, despite knowing I betrayed him. I just hope Thomas told him the truth. It would be harder to keep track of them in the Scorch, which was easier for them.

I just wanted them all to be safe.

I pulled the thin blanket over my head, spreading my legs into an eagle position, and pulled the pillow to my face to scream.

If audible, it would be a blood-curdling, loud, horror-flick-worthy shriek. I wish everything were that easy. Tears poured from my eyes like a loose faucet, and I made no means to stop them. I was still so confused, and so hurt. I still hated WICKED. How could Newt not be immune to the Flare? I thought most employees and subjects were.

I clutched my pillow close to me, hugging it to feel comfort from the solitude in this jail-like cell. I would go insane if I spent longer then a day in here. It was literally a jail cell. There was a small sliding door in the corner, which had a toilet and a sink, but no mirror, and that was it. The only other object was a small lamp, the only laminated object in this room, sitting on the white desk, and the file, overflowing with papers as it sat on my desk; calling my name.

A few hours later, after restlessly sitting on my bed, an employee brought me a plate of food on a divided tray. I was blessed with the delicacy of steak, green beans, and potatoes. It felt like the best meal of my life. Long after that, I decided it was time for bed.

I felt fatigued, but I couldn't sleep. I tried to doze off, but I tossed and turned. I was irritable and restless. Despite the lack of nightmares I know I wouldn't have anymore, I still felt like an insomniac. I tried to open the door at one point to stretch my muscles, but someone had locked me in, which worried me. Replays kept gyrating in my mind like an old movie. Chuck's death. The griever hole. Newt shouting. My death. His non-immunity. It was all too much.

My wired eyes flickered around the room as I rolled over on to my back. The file on the desk caught my eye, and I lifted my head. My puffy, blurred eyes tried to focus in the shady night. The lack of light caused me to stub my toe on the chair, and I cussed as I leaned over to turn the small lamp on. I turned the file around to face me, and paused.

The front of the cover read:

**Naomi Kennedy**

**A.K.A Florence Nightingale**

**Subject A11: The Seed**

**Property of WICKED**

Naomi Kennedy. That was my real name? I shivered. Florence was so _me_. Something about the name lit a bulb in my mind though. I shook it off, and opened the file.

There were photographs, brain scans, x-rays, mug shots, profile photos, immunization records, and an information notes.

It was all written in different hand writing, and different colored pens, signifying it was written over a long length of time.

I braced myself, gritting my teeth, and then leaned forward into my chair to read it.

_"Subject A11, also referred to as The Seed, has displayed signs of hostility and enmity at first point of arrival. A11 was found outside Denver, Colorado, residing with a group of survivors outside of the dome. Family and connections is unknown. A11 has created a relationship with Subject A2."_

The next note was written in blue.

_"Subject has alleviated after a month of residing here. She continues to display signs of hostility if threatened, but has immensely calmed down. Subject indicates progress and growth in strategic thinking, despite making rash decisions on more than one occasion."_

This note was barely readable, like a doctor's scribbles.

_"Doctor Adam Alrich has compatibly matched A11 with A2, our most prized candidate. From now on, A11 will be a part of WICKED and act as a variable for A2, as well as the others."_

_"Subject A11 has continuously been tested on, some occasions against own will. Progress is seizing; signs of aggression recurring."_

_"The Swipe has been inserted by Doctor Adam Alrich. A11 has tremendously calmed down, no longer displaying signs of hostility. A11 is starting to work as a team with others in creating 'beetle blades'."_

The next note was more recent.

_"Lack of physical strength and difference in gender has caused suspicion among other subjects upon arrival in maze._

_"Subject harmed in Maze, emergency reconstructive surgery initiated by Alistair Meyer. Subject returned a day subsequent to injury."_

_"A11 romantically involved with subject A5: The Glue."_

That was the last note.

I turned the folder of notes over to look at medical history. Most of it was crap I didn't care about, like heart rate and weight, and height, and asthma, until my eyes sank to the last line.

In thick black letters, daunting words were written that would change my life ceaselessly forever.

**Subject A11 Immunity Status: Crank**

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**A/N: This is the last chapter! A big thank you to all those who followed and reviewed. A few of you asked if i was planning on writing a sequel. I am, just so you know. I hope you all will read that too! Please tell me your thoughts and questions. Also, let me know if you will be reading the next story :) Thanks for the reviews from Antisocialashyy, ThePoshKat, SoftballQueen12, OFBLOODANDROSES, Payneinbutt and InvisibleSoul4.**

**Thanks again for your continuous support. I wouldn't continue without you guys :)**

**Also for those of you who didn't know, Florence is played by Nina Dobrev, and Alistair is played by Jensen Ackles.**

**I will post on this fiction as a new chapter when the sequel is up. (Which should be in a few days or so)**


	27. Author's Note

Hello my lovely story followers! It is my pleasure to inform you that the sequel is up. I hope you all read it. Thanks.


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